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THE  BRIDLE   ROADS   OF   SPAIN 


S" 


„y^^5 


77^  LiJayz. 


THE  BRIDLE  ROADS 

OF    SPAIN  OR  LAS  ALFORJAS 


GEORGE    JOHN    CAYLEY 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
MARTIN  HUME,  M.A. 
AND  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  THE 
AUTHOR  BY  LADY  RITCHIE 
AND     MRS.    COBDEN     SICKERT 


BOSTON:       DANA       ESTES      AND 
COMPANY    PUBLISHERS     MCMIX 


{All  rights  reserved.) 


INTRODUCTION 

There  was  a  stripling  once,  long  long  ago,  who,  strange 
as  it  seems  now,  was  in  some  sort  identical  with  myself.  He 
did  not  think  it  at  the  time,  but  he  must  have  been  rather 
an  unusual  boy  ;  for  he  had  an  overmastering  passion  for 
books,  and  cared  not  for  much  else.  He  had  been  taught 
very  little,  but  he  was  already  trilingual,  and  devoured 
everything  in  the  shape  of  reading  in  either  of  his  three 
tongues  that  fell  into  his  way.  From  the  strange  mixed 
mental  pabulum  thus  provided  he  gained  much  vague 
impression  and  stuff  for  dreams,  but  no  sense  of  reality 
or  of  the  applicability  of  what  he  read  to  actual  life. 

Once  into  his  hands,  which  were  mine,  there  came,  I 
know  not  how,  a  book  in  English  with  a  Spanish  name, 
"Las  Alforjas."  Anything  Spanish  appealed  to  me, 
for  I  loved  the  very  sound  of  the  Castilian  words  ;  and 
"  the  saddlebags,"  of  which  the  title  was  the  translation, 
were  familiar  objects  to  me  :  brightly  embroidered  twin 
sacks  of  stout  canvas  to  sling  across  the  back  of  a  mule  or 
eke  to  carry  oneself  at  a  pinch  in  lieu  of  the  carpet-bag  or 
portmanteau  of  civilisation.  Moreover,  Spain  itself  meant 
to  me  as  a  boy  a  place  of  pleasant,  but  perfectly  prosaic, 
sojourn,  where  elderly  relatives  were  delightfully  indulgent 
and  had  expansive  views  with  regard  to  tips. 

What   wonder,  then,   that    I  should  cast  myself  avidly 

5 


Introduction 

upon  "Las  Alforjas  ;  or,  The  Bridle  Roads  of  Spain,  by 
George  John  Cayley,"  a  book  in  two  volumes  with  a 
quaint  woodcut  title-page  to  each,  bearing  a  picture  of  two 
men  in  Andalusian  garb,  two  mules,  and  the  bulging 
alforjas  that  gave  the  title  to  the  work  ?  It  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  the  book  for  the  first  time  opened  the 
gates  of  a  new  world  to  the  eager  youngster  who  devoured 
it.  I  can  recollect  through  the  long  dim  vista  of  inter- 
vening years,  as  if  it  were  yesterday,  the  exquisite  delight  it 
gave  me  to  realise  from  its  pages  that  romance  and  pic- 
turesqueness  were  not  confined,  as  I  had  supposed,  to  the 
men  and  times  of  long  ago,  but  still  surrounded  us  in  our 
daily  lives  if  only  we  had  the  faculty  to  see  them.  Spain, 
the  workaday  Spain  that  I  knew,  assumed  a  new  guise.  I 
realised,  as  if  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  that  the  costumes  I 
had  seen  so  often  were  picturesque,  that  the  turns  of  speech 
familiar  to  me  were  quaint  and  archaic,  that  the  dirty- 
looking  posadas  I  had  peeped  into  were  widely  different 
from  English  country  inns ;  and  that  the  stern  rugged 
granite  mountains  bathed  in  glow  of  gold  and  shadows  of 
purple  brought  to  the  soul  a  new  sense  of  the  beauty  of 
atmosphere.  I  learnt  from  the  book  for  the  first  time  that 
the  world  was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  that  adventure  with  a 
delightful  spice  of  lawlessness  and  risk  was  within  the  reach 
of  a  boy  who  mounted  a  donkey  and  rode  along  the  high- 
ways and  byways  that  I  had  seen  from  the  banquette  of  a 
diligence  or  from  the  windows  of  one  of  the  few  Spanish 
railroads  then  in  existence. 

I  revelled  in  the  high-spirited  adventures  or  the  two 
young  Englishmen  who  had  bought  ponies  in  the  extreme 
south  of  Spain,  and  had  ridden  them  unattended,  disguised  as 
Andaluz  muleteers,  through  all  the  country  to  the  Pyrenees. 
It    was    patent    to    me,    of    course,    that    the    writer    was 

6 


Introduction 

extremely  shaky  in  his  Spanish,  and  I  recollect  scoffing 
hugely  at  the  pretence  that  any  one  who  called  a  Custom 
House  officer  a  doganero  could  possibly  be  mistaken  for  a 
Spaniard.  But  the  scenes  in  the  ventas  by  the  wayside, 
the  vastness  of  the  landscapes,  the  lonely  tracks  through  the 
rugged  mountains,  the  tragic  encounter  with  the  footpad 
near  Seville,  all  described  with  racy  picturesqueness  of 
speech  and  unfailing  humour,  brought  home  to  me  with 
absolute  truth  the  very  spirit  of  Spain.  The  somewhat 
lackadaisical  love-letters  in  which  much  of  the  narrative  is 
contained  seemed  to  me  an  unworthy  vehicle  for  such 
heroic,  but  yet  perfectly  attainable,  adventures,  and  most  of 
the  philosophical  discussions  by  the  way  were  ruthlessly 
skipped  with  a  boy's  eagerness  to  "  cut  the  cackle  and  get 
to  the  horses."  But,  with  youth's  eclecticism,  the  book 
was  enshrined  in  my  heart  as  an  incomparable  master- 
piece, and  conned  again  and  again  with  delight.  It  led 
me  too  to  the  book  of  all  books,  "  Don  Quixote,"  before 
which  even  "Las  Alforjas"  paled,  and  by  which,  after  a  time, 
it  was  supplanted.  But,  though  the  Knight  of  the  Mancha 
much  more  than  filled  its  place,  "  Las  Alforjas  "  was  kept  in 
loving  memory  for  what  it  had  opened  to  me,  and  through 
more  years  than  I  care  to  think  the  recollection  of  it  was 
cherished  gratefully,  though  the  book  itself  had  long  been 
lost ;  and  I  fondly  thought  that  no  other  living  soul  but 
myself  had  ever  heard  of  it. 

But  one  day  I  was  seated  at  a  large  London  dinner-party 
next  to  a  gifted  lady  who  asked  me  whether  I  had  ever 
heard  of  such  a  book  as  "  Las  Alforjas  ;  or,  The  Bridle 
Roads  of  Spain."  Had  I  ever  heard  of  it  forsooth  ?  My 
answer  was  that  I  thought  no  one  else  ever  had  ;  but  to  my 
surprise  it  appeared  that  George  John  Cayley  had  left 
behind    him    a    small    circle    of    admirers    who    reverently 

7 


Introduction 

preserved  the  tradition  of  his  attractive  and  unconventional 
personality,  and  believed  in  his  wayward  genius.  And,  so, 
I  was  prompted  to  read  "  Las  Alforjas  "  again.  It  is  always 
a  risky  experiment  to  review  in  the  searching  light  of  long 
experience  the  literary  judgments  of  enthusiastic  youth,  and 
in  my  case  it  was  more  than  usually  difficult ;  because  since 
I  had  known  and  loved  Cayley's  book  I  had  during  the  last 
twenty  years  read  all,  and  reviewed  most,  of  the  books  on 
Spanish  travel  published  in  England  ;  and  my  faculty  for 
admiration  had  been  considerably  diminished  in  the  process. 
For  truth  to  say  many  of  such  books  are  hopelessly  bad  in 
the  eyes  of  a  person  who  knows  the  country  well.  They 
are  written  for  the  most  part  without  any  attempt,  or 
indeed  opportunity,  to  study  from  the  inside  the  national 
life  they  profess  to  describe,  and  with  no  sympathy  for  the 
country  or  the  people.  Railway  travel,  now  general  in 
Spain,  whilst  enormously  facilitating  communication  and 
increasing  the  number  of  foreign  visitors  to  the  country,  has 
rendered  it  more  difficult  to  join  in,  or  even  to  see,  the  life 
of  the  people  ;  and  of  no  other  country  in  Europe  is  it  as 
true  as  of  Spain  that  a  traveller  who  never  leaves  the  iron 
track  and  the  saloon  carriage  knows  no  more  of  the  country 
when  he  leaves  than  when  he  enters  it. 

So,  although  I  knew  that  "Las  Alforjas"  was  not  open 
to  this  objection,  for  Cayley  wrote  just  before  the  era  of 
Spanish  railways,  I  took  up  the  book  with  a  lingering  fear 
that  the  aroma  of  it  that  I  had  cherished  for  so  many  years 
would  vanish  before  critical  scrutiny.  It  came  through  the 
ordeal  triumphantly,  though  not  unscathed.  One  saw 
immediately  that  if  George  Borrow  had  not  written  "  The 
Bible  in  Spain,"  Cayley  would  have  written  "Las  Alforjas" 
differently  or  not  at  all.  The  phraseology  was  somewhat 
stilted  and  old-fashioned,  and  the  verbal  fun  a  little  forced 


Introduction 

in  places  in  poor  imitation  of  Dickens.  The  love-making 
in  the  letters,  too,  was  a  bit  wearisome  ;  as  indeed  I  had 
found  it  in  my  youth.  But  when  these  little  deductions 
had  been  made,  enough  remained  to  stamp  the  book  as  a 
work  of  genius,  worthy  to  stand  on  a  lower  shelf  as  a  little 
classic  in  the  same  book-case  as  Borrow  and  Ford. 

The  author  was  a  young  man  of  five-and-twenty,  who  in 
1 85 1  was  forced  by  ill-health  to  winter  in  Seville  ;  and 
with  an  English  friend,  and  apparently  prospective  brother- 
in-law,  started  with  two  bought  ponies  and  the  saddlebags 
early  in  the  year  1852  to  ride  slowly  to  the  French  frontier 
at  Irun.  They  were  dressed,  as,  alas !  it  would  be  impossible 
for  them  to  be  now,  in  the  smart  old  Andaluz  garb,  with 
velvet-tufted  calanes  hats,  embroidered  jackets  with  silver 
buttons,  breeches  and  gaiters.  Their  road  led  them  to 
many  famous  cities,  of  which,  truth  to  say,  they  show  very 
little  appreciation.  Even  peerless  Granada  gets  but  scant 
perfunctory  praise.  But  upon  the  open  road,  in  the 
sunbaked  villages  upon  sterile  hillsides,  amongst  rude  boors 
sitting  round  the  blazing  fire  of  vine  cuttings  in  inn 
kitchens,  Cayley  is  at  his  best :  full  of  keen  observation, 
witty  comment,  racy  description  and  whimsical  fancy. 

The  Spain  he  describes  is  that  of  Borrow  seen  in  the  last 
years  before  the  great  change  swept  over  it,  a  change  that 
in  forty  years  transformed  it  more  than  the  previous  four 
hundred  had  done.  Gone  now,  or  almost  gone,  are  the 
quaint  provincial  costumes  that  made  of  Spanish  travel  a 
feast  of  colour  and  picturesqueness ;  gone,  in  the  consider- 
able towns  at  least,  the  haphazard  accommodation  for 
travellers,  the  overcrowded  and  verminous  posadas,  the 
unsophisticated  service  and  the  scanty  fare.  The  frequent 
intercourse  with  strangers,  too,  has  rubbed  off  some  of  the 
old-world  bloom  from  the   manners  of  the   people.      But, 

9 


Introduction 

though  the  railways  have  scored  deep  lines  upon  the  face  or 
the  land,  they  have  left  the  districts  untouched  by  them 
more  conservative  than  ever  in  many  things.  Now  that 
everybody  travels  by  rail  from  one  principal  point  to 
another,  the  habit  of  road  travel  has  been  lost,  and  the 
smaller  towns  of  no  special  interest  to  tourists  are  more 
deserted  than  before.  A  few  Catalan  and  French  bagmen 
occasionally  find  their  way  to  these  places  out  of  the  beaten 
track  of  international  travel ;  but  save  for  them,  the  roads 
are  left  to  muleteers  and  wayfarers,  such  as  those  described 
in  "  Don  Quixote  "  and  seen  by  George  Cayley  and  his 
friend  more  than  fifty  years  ago.  Again,  doubtless,  in 
Spain  as  elsewhere,  the  popularisation  of  the  motor  will  in 
time  bring  the  main  diligence  roads  into  use  again  by 
cultured  travellers.  But  that,  thank  Heaven,  is  not  likely 
to  be  just  yet ;  for  the  highways  leave  much  to  be  desired 
from  the  motorist's  point  of  view,  and  the  posadas  in  the 
provinces  will  take  many  years  to  bring  up  to  his  ideal  of  a 
comfortable  stopping-place. 

It  may  be  safely  said  that  if  at  present  any  two  young 
men  similarly  equipped  to  Cayley  and  his  companion  were 
to  start  out  on  a  like  expedition  they  might  conceivably 
meet  with  adventures  and  discomforts  of  the  same  sort,  and 
would  assuredly  find  the  places  and  people  but  little 
changed,  except  in  the  matter  of  costume.  It  is  true  that 
they  would  run  smaller  risk  of  attack  from  bandits,  although 
even  that  danger  in  certain  districts  might  be  encountered, 
nor  would  it  be  so  easy  now  as  it  appears  to  have  been  fifty 
years  ago  to  make  readers  believe  that  you  might  kill  a  free- 
booter in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  great  Spanish  city  and  escape 
pursuit  or  suspicion.  Nor  could  the  travellers,  without 
the  certainty  of  being  apprehended  for  lunatics  or  stoned  for 
buffoons,  assume  the  theatrical  get  up  adopted  by  the 
Englishmen  in  "Las  Alforjas." 

10 


Introduction 

But  what  is  quite  inconceivable  is  that  two  young 
English  gentlemen  of  the  present  day,  accustomed  to  rapid, 
luxurious  transit  and  cleanly  comfort,  would  voluntarily 
undergo  the  dirt,  hardship,  discomfort  and  delay  which  a 
journey  over  by-roads  and  bridle-tracks  from  one  end  of 
Spain  to  the  other  would  even  now  necessarily  entail.  In 
the  pursuit  of  sport,  as  it  is  called,  it  is  true  that  even 
greater  hardships  are  faced  by  gently  nurtured  Englishmen ; 
but  of  sport  as  they  understand  it  there  is  little  to  be  had  in 
Spain,  especially  by  chance  travellers  ;  and  poor  fare  and 
squalid  surroundings  do  not  commend  themselves  to  our 
pampered  generation.  Quite  recently  I  passed  a  time  upon 
the  road  and  in  the  small  pueblos^  far  away  from  railways,  in 
the  ancient  kingdom  of  Murcia,  passing  the  nights  often  in 
lonely  granges  before  the  log  fires,  or  in  village  posadas  as 
primitive  as  those  described  by  Cayley.  And  there  was 
much  talk  there  at  the  time  of  a  certain  daring  handelero 
who  had  an  inconvenient  habit  of  waylaying  and  robbing 
honest  citizens  on  the  road  not  far  from  Lorca.  I  can 
answer  for  it  that  if  a  pair  of  young  Englishmen  were  to  set 
forth,  as  Cayley  and  his  friend  did,  with  ponies  and  no 
guide,  and  were  to  ride,  we  will  say,  from  Lorca  through 
the  ancient  Moorish  kingdom  of  Granada,  by  Velez  Rubio, 
Baza,  Guadix  and  Granada,  to  Motril  on  the  Mediterranean, 
they  would  see  as  much  local  colour,  wild  scenery  and 
rough  accommodation  as  would  last  them  in  a  general  way 
for  the  rest  of  their  lives,  although  they  might  not  make  so 
fine  a  book  of  their  wanderings  as  George  Cayley  did. 
Indeed,  for  a  good  portion  of  the  way  the  route  of  the 
earlier  traveller  might  still  be  traversed  without  much 
alteration  being  found  in  the  roadside  inns  or  in  the  roads 
themselves.  It  is  not,  however,  primarily  as  a  guide-book 
that  "  The  Bridle  Roads  of  Spain  "  should  be  regarded.     It 

II 


Introduction 

deserves  to  be  read  as  a  little  masterpiece  of  travel  by  any 
one  upon  whom  the  glamour  of  Spain  has  fallen  ;  and  it 
was  a  happy  thought  to  rescue  it  from  the  undeserved 
oblivion  into  which  it  had  sunk.  Personally  I  shall  love 
it  always  for  what  it  meant  to  me  in  those  fast-fading  days 
or  my  early  youth,  but  it  should  charm  others  by  the  wit 
and  brilliancy  of  its  narrative  and  the  unfailing  vigour  of 
its  style. 

MARTIN    HUME. 
London,  April,  1908. 


12 


RECOLLECTIONS 
OF  GEORGE  JOHN  CAYLEY 

BY 

LADY    RITCHIE 

AND 

MRS.   COBDEN   SICKERT 


I 


The  first  time  I  remember  him  was  mounting  a  great 
stone  staircase  in  an  old  palace  at  Naples.  My  father  had 
been  calling  on  Mrs.  Craven — Pauline  de  la  Ferronays — 
the  friend  of  so  many  friends.  We  left  her  sitting  by  the 
wood  fire  burning  in  the  great  chimney-piece.  She  was 
dressed  in  white,  a  pale  woman  with  smooth  dark  hair, 
looking  thoughtfully  into  the  smouldering  flame.  The 
room  beyond  was  in  twilight ;  it  was  rather  solemn, 
with  thick  walls  and  carved  ceilings  and  sad-coloured 
curtains,  just  lighted  by  the  flicker  from  the  burning  logs. 
A  servant  met  us  in  the  anteroom  to  let  us  out,  and  the 
door  had  not  closed  when  we  saw  George  Cayley  coming 
up  the  staircase — a  rapid,  fanciful  figure  wrapped  in  a 
cloak.  He  suddenly  drew  out  a  sword  as  he  met  us 
and  stopped   to  speak   to  my  father. 

13 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

"I  am  going  to  the  fancy  ball  at  the  palace  to-night," 
he  said,  "and  I  am  coming  to  show  Mrs.  Craven  my 
sword." 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  from  ? "  my  father  asked  him, 
taking  it  into  his  own  hand  and  admiring  it. 

"  I  made  it  myself,"  the  young  man  answered  ;  "  look  at 
the  chain — I  am  very  proud  of  the  chain,"  and  then,  re- 
placing it  in  its  scabbard,  he  nodded,  and  passed  through 
the  door  which  had  not  yet  shut,  into  the  dim,  dignified 
home  of  the  Cravens. 

Among  the  many  pictures  which  hang  up  in  one's  gallery 
of  early  impressions  I  have  more  than  one  fading  sketch  of 
my  old  friend.  But  when  some  one  asked  me  who  he  was 
like,  I  could  only  think  of  some  character  in  fiction,  of 
Hamlet — Mercutio — Fantasio,  perhaps,  out  of  Alfred  de 
Musset's  play.  I  could  imagine  George  Cayley  fishing  for 
wigs  as  Fantasio  did.  How  many  strange  objects  he  used 
to  fish  for,  and  what  lovely  things  he  used  to  bring  to  show 
us  devised  by  his  own  hands  and  invented  by  himself!  I 
can  see  those  hands  still,  nervous,  gentleman's  hands,  the 
fingers  scarred  and  stained  with  many  experiments,  with 
work  on  the  anvil,  with  acids  and  varnishes.  When  we 
first  met  his  dress  was  shabby  and  fanciful.  Sometimes  he 
had  on  a  red  cap  like  that  one  in  the  picture  of  Masaccio's 
in  the  National  Gallery,  People  wore  their  hair  long  in 
those  days,  almost  as  long  as  they  did  in  Masaccio's  time. 
Mr.  Cayley  was  not  handsome,  like  Masaccio,  but  never- 
theless, his  was  a  striking  appearance  and  a  figure  not  to  be 
overlooked  ;  always  to  the  front,  propounding,  speculating, 
alert,  interested — his  friends  laughed  at  his  whimsical 
theories  and  paradoxes,  and  loved  his  warm  heart,  and 
admired  his  gay,  quick  intuition. 

We   did    not    meet   again  for  a  year  or   two  after  that 

14 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

casual  encounter  at  Naples.  By  that  time  I  was  a  grown- 
up young  lady  going  out  with  my  father. 

There  was  one  special  ball  in  Dover  Street  at  Lady 
Stanley  of  Alderley's,  into  which  he  suddenly  reappeared  on 
his  return  from  the  war  in  the  East,  where  he  had  gone 
out  as  special  correspondent. 

Lady  Stanley  stood  receiving  her  guests,  surrounded  by 
her  beautiful  daughters.  The  great  shining  landing  led  to 
a  shining  ballroom  ;  figures  dressed  (so  it  seemed  to  me)  in 
radiance  and  light  and  crowned  with  flowers  were  flitting 
all  about,  and  Mr.  Cayley  came  up  through  the  crowd. 
He  told  us  he  had  only  returned  home  that  very  day,  and 
it  was  with  the  halo  of  unknown  adventure  and  danger 
about  him  that  he  met  us.  His  clothes  were  not  quite 
the  same  as  other  people's  clothes ;  he  wore  a  loose 
black  necktie  which  I  dare  say  had  been  in  battle  with 
him.  Everybody  made  him  welcome,  and  all  that  even- 
ing he  danced  and  talked  and  responded  to  his  friends' 
greetings. 

Whether  in  beautiful  and  dazzling  scenes  or  in  quiet 
little  dining-rooms  and  studies,  his  talk  was  always  the 
same,  full  of  wit,  full  of  gist.  He  would  talk  of  to-day, 
of  to-morrow,  of  yesterday,  of  feelings,  of  plans,  with  end- 
less zest  and  with  fancy.  He  used  to  preach  little  sermons 
to  his  partners  as  he  stood  up  with  them,  to  which  they 
listened  with  reverence.  He  had  a  high,  harsh  voice,  with 
a  chord  in  it. 

"T'-^re  is  such  a  thing  as  being  true  to  oneself,"  I  can 
still  L_ar  him  say  in  a  crowded  back  room  in  Chesham 
Place  ;  "  you  must  never  forget  that." 

Mr.  Cayley  had  given  up  fancy  dress  and  foreign  experi- 
ments by  this  time.  He  had  made  it  all  right  with  his 
family  and  come  home  to  live  in  London.     As  I  reopen 

15 


Recollections  of  George  John   Cayley 

this  book  of  the  past  (it  must  have  been  published  about 
the  time  of  which  I  am  writing),  I  can  almost  hear  my  old 
friend's  voice,  still  speaking,  dictating,  suggesting,  half  in 
fun,  all  in  earnest,  sentence  after  sentence  ringing  like 
a  happy  chime  of  youth — each  sentence  is  as  if  he  were 
speaking  still. 

Take  for  instance  :  "  Man  is  a  practical  animal  with 
a  few  romantic  aspirations  which  aflFect  his  thoughts  much 
more  than  his  actions.  The  romance  of  every  man's  life 
consists,  not  half  so  much  in  what  he  does,  or  has  done, 
as  in  what  he  thinks  of  doing,  or  thinks  he  might  have 
done."  Or  again  :  "  There  are  Pyramuses  and  Thisbes, 
who  peep  at  each  other  through  opera  glasses  instead  of 
through  holes  in  the  wall,  and  Romeos  and  Juliets,  who 
meet,  whether  at  Devonshire  House  or  the  Whittington 
Club  Balls,  and  love  just  as  suddenly,  desperately,  and 
fatally."  How  true  it  all  is,  how  gay,  how  experienced  ! 
Or  again  :  "  I  have  always  looked  upon  Pickwick  (which 
will  live  as  Dickens's  great  work)  as  a  free  translation  or 
Don  Quixote  into  the  manners  of  modern  England.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  in  the  simple  enthusiasm  of  his  heart,  resolves  to 
be  the  redresser  of  grievances.  Sam  Weller,  the  shrewd  and 
humorous  valet,  is  the  natural  Sancho  of  British  low  life  ; 
always  ready,  like  his  prototype,  with  a  quaint  and  homely, 
common-sense  view,  to  contrast  with  the  flighty  visions  of 
his  master.  Jingle  is  Gines  de  Pasamonte,  Wardle  the 
hospitable  sylvan  duke.  .  .  ." 

George  Cayley  used  to  come  and  dine  with  us  in  Onslow 
Square,  and  question  and  contradict  my  father  and  interest 
him  and  amuse  him.  His  own  father,  Mr.  Edward 
Stillingfleet  Cayley,  a  widower,  was  a  Yorkshireman, 
a  landowner,  belonging  to  an  ancient  family,  and  a 
member   of    Parliament.       Mr.    Cayley    used    to    live    in 

i6 


Recollections  of  George  John   Cayley 

Dean's  Yard,  Westminster,  and  we  were  sometimes  asiced 
to  dine  there.  I  do  not  know  who  was  actually  dwelling 
in  the  house  besides  George  and  his  elder  brother  ;  I  have  an 
impression  that  Lord  Strangford,  then  Mr.  Smythe,  lived 
there  too.  I  remember  the  hall  with  half  a  dozen  hats 
hanging  up  ;  there  was  a  little  snug  back  room  with  a 
bright  fire  and  invitations  stuck  all  over  the  chimney-piece  ; 
a  drawing-room  upstairs  also  looking  very  comfortable, 
with  its  bookcases  and  its  plaster  casts,  and  armchairs 
round  the  fire,  and  a  table  with  books  and  a  reading- 
desk.  Mr.  Cayley  pere  was  standing  at  the  door  to 
receive  us,  a  tall,  thin,  hook-nosed  gentleman  with  very 
white  hair,  very  dignified  and  polite.  Lady  Charlotte 
Locker  was  sitting  on  the  sofa. 

I  remember  Mr.  Cayley  the  elder  welcoming  my  father 
with  great  courtesy  and  saying  :  "  I  leave  everything  to 
George  ;  he  mvites  my  guests  and  arranges  everything  ;  he 
arranged  the  dinner  table,  as  you  will  see  ;  it  is  all  his  doing." 

That  little  dinner  party  begins  again,  as  I  think  of  it. 
Lady  Charlotte  Locker  sits  by  Mr.  Cayley — it  is  all  rather 
dull  and  supremely  delightful — George  Cayley  does  not 
hold  forth  in  his  father's  presence,  it  is  the  others  who 
talk.  He  becomes  somewhat  absorbed  and  preoccupied  with 
details,  like  Martha  ;  for  the  moment  the  Mary  in  him  is 
absent.  When  we  left  it  was  the  father  who  insisted  on 
seeing  us  to  the  carriage  :  "  Don't  you  come  out,  George," 
he  said  to  his  son. 

I  kept  a  diary  in  those  days,  where  all  these  minute 
details  were  noted,  and  among  other  things  I  see  that  after 
dinner  Lady  Charlotte  Locker  told  me  that  Mr.  Edward 
Cayley's  father  and  mother  had  both  been  born  deaf  and 
dumb. 

In  that  same  old  house  under  the  Abbey  towers,  where 

17  B 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

the  chimes  and  the  bells  are  part  of  the  daily  life,  and  the 
people  are  to  be  seen  as  they  go  crossing  Dean's  Yard  on 
their  way  to  and  from  the  cloisters,  where  any  day  you  may 
meet  the  cheerful  stream  of  Westminster  boys  pouring  out 
to  their  games,  the  Cayleys  went  on  living  long  after  the 
kind  old  father's  death.  George,  meanwhile,  had  married 
a  very  young  bride,  Miss  Wilmot,  a  cousin  of  his  own,  and 
three  little  children  were  born  to  them  as  the  years  went 
by.  Sir  John  Millais  once  painted  a  charming  picture  of 
the  elder  boy,  and  received  in  return  a  beautiful  silver  tray 
with  dolphin  handles  worked  for  him  by  George  Cayley 
himself,  whose  silver  work  was  very  striking  and  beautiful. 
Some  of  it  is  like  the  modern  archaic  work,  only  with  more 
grace  and  finish.  Once  (still  in  my  youth)  I  remember 
that  at  some  dinner  everyone  was  speaking  of  a  marvellous 
find,  an  antique  silver  ornament  of  uncertain  date,  over 
which  people  were  speculating.  Mrs.  Norton  was  sitting 
opposite  to  me  and  she  looked  down  slowly  and  smiled. 
"  There  is  no  uncertainty,"  she  said  ;  "  I  recognise  the 
work  of  our  friend  George  Cayley,"  and  then  everybody 
laughed,  .and  agreed  that  she  was  right. 

Our  last  visit  to  the  Cayleys'  old  house  in  Dean's  Yard 
was  a  sad  one.  My  sister  and  I  had  driven  to  the  steps 
of  the  terrace  on  which  it  stands,  to  ask  for  one  of 
the  boys  who  was  very  ill.  The  door  was  opened  by 
George  Cayley  himself,  who  had  seen  us  from  the  window. 
It  was  a  dark  winter's  evening  just  before  Christmas,  and 
the  mists  were  everywhere. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "  come  in,  and  share 
our  dismal  jollity.  Artie  is  very  ill,  there  is  hardly  any  hope 
for  him,  but  he  wanted  to  see  the  Christmas-tree  lighted 
up,  and  so  we  are  having  it  to-night  instead  of  waiting 
for  Christmas." 

i8 


Recollections   of  George  John  Cayley 

We  followed  him  upstairs  to  the  drawing-room,  where 
the  tree  was  beginning  to  shine  with  its  candles,  the  two 
other  children  were  excitedly  running  to  and  fro,  little  Artie 
was  lying  back  on  his  pillows  between  his  mother  and  his 
nurse ;  and  then  George  Cayley,  with  the  tears  streaming 
down  his  cheeks,  went  on  steadily  lighting  the  candles  and 
looking  to  it  all.  Little  Artie  was  smiling  faintly,  the 
children  still  running  round  and  round  the  little  tree, 
when  we  left.  I  remember  the  sad  look  of  the  lighted 
windows  as  we  drove  away  and  looked  back  at  the  house. 

It  is  now  thirty  years  since  George  Cayley  himself  died 
after  a  long  illness  courageously  endured.  The  Times 
obituary  for  October  15,  1878,  ran  thus  : — 

"On  the  nth  October,  at  Munton  Rectory,  Kent, 
George  John  Cayley,  second  son  of  the  late  Edward 
Stillingfleet  Cayley,  Esq.,  M.P.,  of  Wydale,  York,  aged  52." 

ANNE  THACKERAY   RITCHIE. 


II 


George  Cayley's  personality  was  brilliant,  original,  and 
many-sided.  To  seek  his  society  was  to  court  surprise,  for 
he  was  eccentric  and  conventional,  steadfast  and  capricious, 
made  up  of  contradictions.  He  was  a  wayward  philosopher. 
Those  whom  he  admitted  to  intimacy  found  themselves  in 
the  wittiest,  the  most  resourceful,  the  finest  company.  It 
is  true  that,  like  most  persons  of  strong  individuality,  if  he 
could  attract  he  could  also  repel :  otherwise,  how  should 
Nature  protect  her  favourites  against  besieging  hordes  of 
curious  mediocrity  ? 

One  after  another  those  who  knew  George  Cayley  are 

19 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

following  him  out  of  the  world.  When  all  who  knew  him 
are  gone,  what  memory  will  survive  of  his  charm,  powerful 
and  evanescent,  what  shadow  of  the  substance  that  once 
was  he  ? 

The  writer  of  these  lines  has  been  asked  to  put  into  a  few 
words  her  recollections  of  him  as  he  was  in  long  past  days. 
Such  recollections  tend  rather  to  visualise  than  to  become 
articulate.  They  are  intangible,  they  come  and  go,  they 
evoke  a  sigh  or  a  smile,  and  behold  !  they  have  taken 
another  shape  or  have  vanished ! 

There  must  still  be  some  who  knew  him  in  other  aspects 
than  were  famiHar  to  the  three  sisters  who,  so  long  ago, 
were  his  young  neighbours  in  Algiers,  one  of  whom  now 
endeavours  to  record — however  faintly — the  vivid  mental 
vision  they  all  three  retain  of  him. 

The  three  sisters  were  in  Algiers  one  winter  and  spring, 
m  a  house  in  the  Village  d'Isly  at  the  end  of  the  Ravines. 
Close  by,  gardens  and  walls,  gates  and  lane  between,  was  an 
almost  empty  house  awaiting  the  wandering  occupants  of 
its  vacant  rooms.  One  day  the  first  comers  were  idling  on 
their  verandah,  when  up  the  garden  walk  came  a  little 
girl — the  blue  Mediterranean  was  background  to  the  small 
figure  in  white  pinafore  and  hat  with  daisies  round  the 
crown  ;  in  both  arms,  very  tightly,  she  clasped  an  empty 
wine  bottle.  Demurely  she  came  towards  the  strangers, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  them.  When  she  was  close  to  them 
she  held  out  the  bottle  and  asked  to  have  it  filled  with 
fresh  water.  One  of  the  sisters  carried  it  home  for  her,  and 
there  in  the  next  house  was  the  newly-returned  family — 
Mr.  Cayley  and  his  wife,  their  little  son,  the  tiny  daughter. 
The  water  supply  of  one  house  was  as  good  as  that  of  the 
other :  the  little  messenger  had  been  despatched  on  a 
diplomatic  mission  to  report  upon  the  neighbours. 

20 


Recollections   of  George  John   Cayley 

The  family  of  four  had  spent  the  summer  in  the  island  of 
Majorca  ;  they  had  sailed  away  from  Algiers  with  part  of 
their  furniture  and  their  three  big  Spanish  donkeys.  On 
the  island  they  had  sparsely  furnished  an  empty  house ;  they 
had  lived  sometimes  in  tents,  riding  their  donkeys  from 
camping  ground  to  camping  ground.  Now,  with  their 
furniture  and  the  donkeys,  they  had  come  back  to  their 
house  in  Algiers.  Whilst  they  were  settling  in  was 
opportunity  for  friendly  relations  to  grow  up  between  them 
and  their  neighbours. 

If  fairy  gold  may  turn  to  dry  leaves,  there  are  dry  leaves 
that  in  some  hands  turn  to  gold.  Mr.  Cayley  took  the 
common  things  of  every  day  and  made  of  them  adventure 
and  romance. 

The  two  families  met  early  and  late.  It,  by  some 
mischance,  there  were  tiflfs  in  the  morning,  before  the 
morning  ended  there  were  meetings  to  explain  away  the 
foundationless  "  bad  dreams."  With  Mr.  Cayley  their 
neighbours  often  rode  the  Spanish  donkeys  ;  at  first  were 
inexpert  at  sitting  a  pack,  fell  off  and  rose  from  the 
dusty  ground  to  mount  again,  perhaps  to  fall  again.  The 
riders  climbed  the  steep,  paved,  narrow  Arab  lanes ;  they  sat 
their  steeds  and  drank  coffee  at  the  Arab  coffee-houses 
found  here  and  there  in  lovely  out-of-the-way  places  ;  they 
listened  while  Mr.  Cayley,  in  Arabic,  exchanged  greetings 
with  the  cofFee-makers  ;  they  halted  on  the  Roman  bridge 
to  look  long  at  the  red  river  that  flowed  under  it  and 
curved  and  turned  and  was  lost  in  yet  another  bend.  The 
river  flowed  not  with  water,  but  with  red  anemones.  (The 
red  river  flows  no  longer,  it  is  said  ;  the  neighbours  have 
not  been  back  to  see.)  Then  on  again  over  the  sunlit 
ridges  and  down  into  the  shadows  of  the  valleys — for  thus 
the  land  lay  in  a  region  beyond  the  heights  of  Mustapha 

21 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

— and  so  over  many  ridges  and  into  many  valleys.  The 
riders  came  home  at  eve  counting  height  and  depth  as 
day  and  night — to  rest  after  a  week  of  travelling,  or  so 
they  said. 

At  the  simple  entertainments  that  in  those  days  were 
given  in  Algiers,  Mr.  Cayley  might  be  seen  or  he  might 
not.  If  he  were  in  the  mood  he  went,  if  he  were  not  he 
stayed  away  ;  he  indulged  his  moods  and  made  no  effort  to 
control  them.  Whether  he  went  or  not,  he  wished  his 
neighbours  to  go,  and  if  he  stopped  at  home  he  liked  them 
to  come  back  and  tell  him  who  was  there  and  what  was 
said.  If,  when  they  returned,  lights  were  still  burning  in 
the  Maison  Cayley,  the  neighbours  tapped  on  the  glass  and 
entered  through  the  window,  to  be  given  supper  of  bread 
and  Majorca  cheese  and  wine.  Mr.  Cayley  did  not  despise 
gossip  or  discourage  it ;  but  it  must  be  short  and  to  the 
point,  and  by  no  means  of  necessity  charitable.  He  was 
amused  by  what  went  on  around  him,  by  the  little  dramas 
in  real  life  played  before  him  or  told  to  him. 

Once  he  acted  "  Petruchio " ;  once  he  coached  his 
neighbours  in  their  parts.  He  had  a  taste  for  costume, 
especially  for  the  costume  of  any  country  he  was  in.  In 
Algiers  he  often  wore  some  modification  of  Arab  dress, 
which  became  him  very  well.  So  clothed  he  could  be  seen 
hammering  metal — gold,  silver  or  brass — into  strange,  beauti- 
ful shapes.  He  might  then  talk  delightfully  to  a  visitor  or 
he  might  be  silent,  replying,  if  reply  he  did,  by  a  shrug,  a 
lifted  eyebrow,  a  mouth  half  opened  for  a  moment,  and,  on 
second  thoughts,  shut  to  and  nothing  said.  Sometimes  his 
gates  were  closed  against  all  comers — perhaps  the  family 
had  colds,  and  on  the  gates  was  pinned  a  notice  that 
"  Toute  la  famille  Cayley  est  tres  malade ;  on  est  pri^  de  ne 
pas  entrer." 

22 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

Mr.  Cayley  had  a  wide  knowledge  of  literature,  and  was 
apt  at  quotation,  and  yet  his  neighbours  do  not  associate 
him  very  specially  with  books.  He  had  seen  many  places, 
known  many  people  in  many  lands.  Most  of  the  dis- 
tinguished people  of  his  day  had  been  his  friends.  But  he 
did  not  dwell  in  reminiscence,  and  of  the  dead  the  names 
with  which  his  neighbours  chiefly  associate  him  are  those 
of  Mrs.  Norton,  Thackeray,  Stirling-Maxwell,  Monckton 
Milnes.  Nor  do  the  neighbours  remember  that  he  dealt 
much  in  anecdote — they  recall  one  :  out  in  the  Crimea  a 
wounded  soldier  dying  close  to  him  in  the  trenches  and 
bidding  farewell  to  a  comrade  : — "  It's  all  cold  cawfee  with 
me,  Jim,"  and  no  other  word  spoken.  It  was  as  a  corre- 
spondent that  George  Cayley  was  in  the  Crimea,  for  what 
paper  his  neighbours  know  not.  On  the  Conservative 
side  he  had  fought  and  lost  an  election  at  Scarborough  ; 
he  had  travelled  far ;  he  had  lived  in  a  tomb  by  the 
Nile.  He  was  man  of  the  world,  citizen  of  the  world  ;  he 
was  part  Bohemian,  part  conventional.  He  had  pride  of 
birth,  the  prejudices  of  an  aristocrat ;  these  were  tempered 
by  contempt  for  the  fool  wherever  placed,  by  immense 
appreciation  of  genius,  talent,  capacity  wherever  found. 
For  humanity  in  the  mass  he  had  scant  respect ;  he  was, 
on  the  other  hand,  tender  towards  the  individual  gifted  by 
Nature  upon  whom  Fortune  frowned.  From  George  Cayley 
such  an  one  would  get  sympathy  and  advice,  intelligent 
and  practical.  A  younger  son  who  had  pursued  no  career 
of  money,  all  his  life,  he  had  very  little.  With  what  he  had 
he  was  open-handed. 

He  was  witty,  he  was  bitter ;  he  was  keen  and  sometimes 
cruel  in  his  judgments.  He  was  never  in  a  hurry  and  he 
was  never  idle.  If  he  did  not  like  you  he  was  not  very 
kind ;  if  he  liked  you  he  had  always  time  to  give  you ;  if 

23 


Recollections  of  George  John  Cayley 

he  liked  you  he  could  make  every  hour  of  the  day  seem 
worth  a  hundred  days  without  him. 

How  hard  it  is  to  crystallise  into  words  the  remembrance 
in  which  his  long-ago  neighbours  hold  him  !  What  things 
tangible  have  come  down  to  them  from  him  ?  A  pot  he 
turned  upon  the  wheel,  a  brooch,  a  comb,  a  bracket,  verses. 

For  a  few  more  years  the  Cayleys  lived  in  Algiers. 
They  moved  to  another  house  above  the  Fontaine  Bleue. 
That  house  was  of  Moorish  architecture,  with  a  Moorish 
garden.  There  was  an  outer  court,  rooms  built  round  the 
inner  court,  flat  roof  above.  Mr.  Cayley  as  long  as  it  was 
possible — longer,  it  might  almost  be  said — played  tennis  in 
the  outer  court,  the  "jeu  de  paume."  His  health  failed 
surely,  if  slowly.  He  bore  the  gradual  loss  of  physical 
power  with  stoic  fortitude,  ignoring  it  as  far  as  might 
be  ;  of  sympathy  he  would  have  none.  A  friend  of  earlier 
days  bidding  him  what  proved  to  be  a  last  farewell,  betrayed 
more  emotion  than  was  due  to  an  ordinary  parting  that 
might  once  more  have  been  only  the  prologue  to  their  next 
meeting.  George  Cayley  said,  "  Ah,  I  see  you  know  that 
I  am  dying."  He  started  to  return  to  Algiers,  and  died  on 
the  way,  in  Kent,  at  the  house  of  a  relative. 

"  The  Bridle  Roads  of  Spain  "  has  been  for  many  years 
lost  to  the  knowledge  of  the  public,  but  there  have  always 
been  a  few  who  prized  it ;  a  few  from  time  to  time  have 
discovered  it ;  now  and  then  strangers  have  fraternised  over 
their  common  knowledge  of  it.  This  book  of  his  is  said  by 
an  authority  to  be  of  the  very  spirit  and  essence  of  Spain — 
to  the  three  neighbours  it  seems  of  the  very  essence  and 
spirit  of  George  Cayley. 

E.  M.  COBDEN   SICKERT. 

24 


A  FAREWELL   SONNET 

(to  our  next-door  neighbours.) 

Till  you  are  gone,  and  your  small  cloud  of  smoke 

Grows  pale  and  paler  while  our  eyes  pursue, 

Till  the  horizon  blots  you  all  in  blue, 

We  shall  not  know  how  bitter  is  the  stroke 

Of  parting.     For  the  threadbare  Spartan  cloak 

Muffles  from  touch  as  well  as  veils  from  view, 

Slight  wounds  alike,  and  such  as  through  and   through 

Would  rip  us  were  we  armour-plated  oak. 

A  weary  sense  of  loss  to  eye  and  ear. 

And  all  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  mind  ; 

A  silence  of  familiar  voices  kind 

That  heralded  familiar  faces  dear. 

So  dull  dim  distance  closes  cold  and  blind 

Between  us  and  who  knows  what  hope  or  fear. 

G.  J.  C. 

{Written  with  the  first  ink  out  of  the  bequeathed  bottle.') 


25 


CONTENTS 


27 


PAGE 


INTRODUCTION    BY    MARTIN    HUME,    M.A.  .  .  5 

RECOLLECTIONS   OF    GEORGE    JOHN    CAYLEY — 

BY    LADY    RITCHIE  .  .  .  •  ^3 

BY    MRS.    COBDEN    SICKERT  .  .  '  ^9 

A    FAREWELL    SONNET  .  .  .  .  -  '^5 

TITLE    PAGE       .  .  .  .  .  ,  29 


C  STEVENS.' 


Ccn  tcdc    eso  dijc   el  Jucn 
Juaji    sera   men    leer  la ,   pues     no 
hay  librc   tan    male    etiie    nc  tenqa 
alauna  ccsa  huenn  Jj2  C^J 


oQpjYDOJr 

iflJS 

I^ICHARD    BENTLEY     NEW  BURUN6T0N  S?," 


DEDICATION 

Love  hath  an  idle   industry  : 
And  foolish  lovers  fondly  trace 
The  name  they  love  in  any  place  ; 

Nor  stay  to  think  how  brief  may  be 

The  record  of  such  registry. 

They  carve  sequestered  woodland  boles 
Where  solitude  and  silence  reign  : 
They  scar  the  hostel  window-pane, 

To  shake  when  any  brawler  trolls 

His  ribald  catch  to  careless  souls  : 

Or  wandering  where  with  sullen  roar 
The  vexed  sea-bosom  maketh  moan — 
Deep-murmuring  echo  of  their  own — 
They  linger  in  the  sand  to  score 
The  name  they  love  along  the  shore. 

And  yet  they  know  the  tree  shall  grow, 

Till  tortured  characters  forswear 

Their  legend  :  glass,  though  marked  with  care. 
Shall  break  :  they  know  the  tide  shall  flow, 
And  leave  the  sand  as  smooth  as  snow. 

31 


Dedication 

So,  Mabel,  on  the  first  of  these 
Ephemeral  leaves,  at  random  ta'en 
From  scented  coppice-wolds  of  Spain, 
I  trace  thy  name,  my  heart  to  please — 
And  trust  them  to  the  idle  breeze  ! 

The  breeze  of  fashion  fluttering  by — 
Which  often  sports  with  flimsy  toys. 
And  makes  a  busy  murmuring  noise 
'Mid  rustling  leaves  that  yearly  die — 
May  let  them  fall  or  make  them  fly. 

What  if  such  foliage  flew  or  fell — 
It  could  but  last  a  little  while  : 
And,  whether  fortune  frown  or  smile, 
The  first  of  these  light  leaves  shall  tell — 
I  care  not  whom — I  love  thee  well  ! 


32 


PREFACE    TO    SECOND    EDITION 

When  you  have  made  a  mistake,  generally  the  worst 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  enter  into  explanations  ;  and  when 
anybody  begins  with  saying  that  something  is  generally 
inexpedient,  you  may  be  sure  that  he  is,  individually,  and 
by  special  exception,  going  to  do  it  himself.  The  reader 
will  at  once  perceive  that  the  Author  of  these  pages,  having 
rashly  published  a  first,  is  now  (perhaps  still  more  rashly) 
about  to  apologise  in  a  second  edition. 

His  work  has  met  with,  perhaps,  more  than  its  due  pro- 
portion of  literary  notice,  in  which,  as  is  usual,  it  has 
been  praised  and  blamed  for  the  same  things  by  different 
critics.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  Author  would 
have  been  content  to  adopt  the  old  expedient  of  accepting 
the  praise  and  ignoring  the  blame,  if  there  had  not  been 
one  grave  charge  reiterated  alike  by  reprovers  and  com- 
menders  (by  these  as  "a  serious  blemish,  which  we  the 
more  regret  from  the  many  excellences,"  &c.  ;  by  those  as 
the  head  and  front  of  offending) — namely,  the  "unscru- 
pulous mixture  of  truth  and  fiction,  which  would  mar  a 
better  book  than,"  &c. 

The  Author  takes  this  opportunity  of  assuring  the  intel- 
ligent and  perspicacious  reader,  that  he  had  no  intention 
whatever   of  misleading   him.     He   thought    that,  to    the 

33 


Preface 

intelligent  reader,  the  book  would  sufficiently  explain  its 
own  plan,  and  indicate  what  was  truth  and  how  much  fiction 
by  subtile  lines  of  demarcation  not  intended  to  catch  the 
eye  and  arouse  the  suspicions  of  the  careless  and  credulous. 

The  result  was,  one  more  illustration  of  the  danger  of  too 
hasty  and  general  classifications.  The  intelligent  were  not 
vigilant  enough,  and  the  credulous  not  blind  enough,  for  the 
Author's  purpose.  The  critic  (whose  course  through  the 
wastes  of  light  literature  is  often  kangaroo-like)  overlooked 
and  overleapt  all  the  cunning  countersigns  intended  to  warn 
him  where  a  toil  was  spread  for  the  unwary.  When  the 
Author  steps  modestly  forward,  in  a  foot  note,  to  disen- 
tangle the  meshes  and  beg  pardon,  it  is  too  late.  The  critic 
has  taken  offence,  and  refusing  to  be  comforted,  lays  about 
him,  tearing  the  flimsy  fabric  in  pieces,  like  the  bee  in  this 
fable  by  Loqman  el  hakim. 

THE   SPIDER  AND  THE   BEE. 

An  ingenious  little  spider  had  spread  her  nets  amid  the 
tall  rank  stalks  of  certain  weeds  that  grew  over  the  remnant 
of  a  carcass.  The  lion  had  left  it  to  the  wolves,  the  wolves 
to  the  vultures,  and  the  vultures  to  the  flies,  which  last 
were  still  buzzing  in  countless  swarms  among  the  putrid 
bones.  Many  were  already  caught  in  the  toils,  when  a  brisk 
young  bee  came  booming  across  the  wilderness,  who,  when 
he  heard  the  collective  buzzing,  mistook  it  for  the  hum  of 
his  own  tribe.  He  at  once  plunged  into  the  weed-clump  to 
look  for  flowers,  and  became  entangled  in  the  cobwebs. 
These  he  was  indignantly  demolishing,  when  the  spider  thus 
accosted  him  : — 

"  Oh  vagrant  son  of  the  hive — an  evil  hour  hath  borne 
thee  hither  !  wherefore  didst  thou  not  stay  to  observe  that 

34 


to  Second   Edition 

these  be  base  weeds  barren  of  honey,  and  these  slender 
toils  woven  for  foolish  flies  !  Now,  thou  hast  rent  my  poor 
web,  and  set  free  my  legitimate  prey,  while  thy  blustering 
outcries  have  alarmed  the  frivolous  race  on  which  I  make 
my  living,  so  that  now,  on  thy  departure,  I  may  mend  my 
broken  nets  in  vain."  But  the  bee  answered — "  Out  upon 
thee,  mother  of  snares!  Let  this  warn  thee  not  to  catch  bees 
any  more  ;  and  be  thankful  thou  hast  escaped  my  sting." 
"  Had  I  meant  to  catch  bees,"  she  replied,  "  I  would  have 
spun  my  nets  of  stronger  line,  and  spread  them  among 
flowers.  I  trusted  to  the  wisdom  of  bees  for  my  safety,  as 
I  did  to  the  folly  of  flies  for  my  subsistence."  So  the  bee 
flew  away  in  great  dudgeon  ;  and  when  the  spider  had 
mended  her  web,  the  flies  (who  would  never  have  found  it 
out  for  themselves)  were  aware  of  the  danger,  and  left  the 
spider  to  starve. 

This  fable  is,  of  course,  no  more  to  be  found  in  the 
original  Arabic  than  the  "  Cronica  de  los  Sultanes  de 
Granada,  por  el  Sabio  Abou  Kizeb"  (father  of  lies), 
p.  216. 

The  Author,  being  very  much  in  the  position  of  an  unfor- 
tunate wit,  who  has  made  an  elaborate  joke  which  a  prosaic 
company,  taking  it  (as  the  French  say)  "at  the  foot  of  the 
letter,"  are  inclined  to  consider  a  perversion  of  facts,  will 
now,  with  the  best  grace  he  can,  relinquish  his  unsuccessful 
attempt  at  pleasantry,  in  the  hope  of  rescuing,  at  least,  his 
impeached  veracity. 

Entertaining  what  he  believes  to  be  a  very  common 
opinion,  that  the  books  of  readable  travel  offered  to  the 
public  were  usually  more  indebted  to  the  embroidering 
needle  of  fiction  than  the  loom  and  shuttle  of  fact ;  and 
giving  the  British  public  credit  for  a  general  curiosity  about 
manufactures  of  all  sorts,  the  Author  conceived  the  idea  of 

35  c 


Preface 

writing  a  book  of  ordinarily  accurate  modern  travel,  which 
should  expose  to  the  reader  the  process  by  which  such  books 
are  generated,  and  the  relative  proportion  of  truth  and 
fiction  which  they  contain.  He  proposed  to  show  how  a 
seed  of  suggestion,  picked  up  by  the  way  side,  germinated 
in  the  note-book,  and  finally  expanded  in  printed  leaves  of 
florid  narrative. 

Man  is  a  practical  animal,  with  a  few  romantic  aspirations 
which  affect  his  thoughts  much  more  than  his  actions.  The 
romance  of  every  man's  life  consists,  not  half  so  much  in 
what  he  does  or  has  done,  as  in  what  he  thinks  of  doing,  or 
thinks  he  might  have  done.  We  were  two  gentlemen  of 
letters  travelling  through  Spain,  and  our  original  plan  was 
to  write  two  parallel  streams  of  narrative,  in  which  the 
companion  of  the  present  Author  was  to  tell  what  we  did  ; 
and  the  present  Author  himself  relate,  as  verisimilarly  as 
possible,  what  we  thought  of  doing  and  thought  we  might 
have  done.  If  this  plan  had  been  carried  into  effect,  it 
might  have  proved  a  curiosity  to  the  loungers  of  literature 
behind  the  scenes  ;  but  what  would  the  public  in  front  of 
the  footlights  have  thought  of  Siamese-twin  Authors  flatly 
contradicting  one  another  in  parallel  columns  ? 

The  fabulist  would  practically  have  had  no  chance  at  all. 
But  the  veracious  collahorateur  was  prevented  by  circum- 
stances from  appearing.  The  decorating  artist,  being  thus 
left  alone,  at  first  thought  of  writing  both  the  plain  and 
adorned  himself,  and  setting  them  side  by  side.  But  the 
crooked  cannot  run  evenly  with  the  straight.  He  found 
that  he  could  not  write  fiction  so  entertaining  that  it  would 
bear  constant  contradiction,  and  he  compromised  the  matter 
by  taking  the  main  line  of  truth  for  his  general  narrative, 
and  indulging  in  occasional  diversions,  which  (set  off  by  the 
confession  of  his  being  an  embellishing  Author,  with  occa- 

36 


to  Second  Edition 

sional  hints  and  inuendoes  not  conspicuous  enough  to 
frighten  the  careless  skimmer)  he  hoped  would  be  at  once 
perceived  and  understood  by  the  critic  as  illustrations  of  his 
modified  original  scherne. 

It  appears  he  was  mistaken.  His  manner  of  relating 
real  and  imaginary  events  is  accused  by  the  reviewers  as  so 
uniform,  that  they  were  unsuspiciously  led  at  first  to  believe 
several  cock-and-bull  stories,  which  the  Author  a  few  pages 
subsequent  confesses  to  be  such  ;  and  they  are  afterwards 
led  to  disbelieve  other  stories  which  they  cannot  satisfac- 
torily make  out  whether  he  means  to  vouch  for  or  discredit. 
The  real  mistake  was  not  having  made  a  general  prefatory 
confession  (which  nobody  would  have  read),  a  fault  he  is 
now  rectifying  in  the  second  edition,  by  a  candid  avowal 
which  will,  at  any  rate,  ease  his  literary  conscience  ;  and  if, 
as  he  hopes,  no  one  reads  it  before  reading  the  book,  it  will 
do  no  harm.  Towards  this  desirable  end  he  has  made  his 
preface  rather  long  and  tedious ;  and  is  now  about  to  hide 
his  confessions  in  the  midst  of  an  interminable  paragraph. 
The  first  idea  of  the  scheme  of  the  work  arose  from  the 
scene  in  the  water-colour  shop  (p.  45).  The  first  instance  of 
pure  invention  is  the  Legend  of  Beaucaire  (p.  52).  Then 
there  is  that  terrible  catastrophe  of  the  slaughtered  robber, 
which  is  true  up  to  the  point  of  hearing  the  pistol  report  in 
the  dehesa^  and  the  Author's  imagination  accounting  for  the 
report  (p.  122).  "Still  the  shot  had  to  be  accounted  for. 
Has  your  imagination  prepared  you  for  something  dreadful  ? 
Mine  had  !  Something  like  what  follows"  Observe,  only 
something  Uke^  and  all  those  italics  to  put  the  wary  reader 
on  his  guard.  In  the  original  draught  this  letter  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  postscript,  exposing  the  many  points  of  extreme 
improbability  which  the  most  casual  reader  must  detect  in 
the  story,  and  explaining  the  fact,  which  was  thus  : — In  his 

37 


Preface 

sudden  pursuit  of  the  ponies,  the  Author  had  carried  away- 
all  the  pipe-lights.  The  redoubtable  brigand-slayer  Harry 
was  exercising  his  matchless  prowess  in  blank  cartridge 
practice  at  the  end  of  his  cigar,  which  he  succeeded  in 
lighting  at  the  expense  of  his  companion's  vivid  appre- 
hensions. This  postscript  was  suppressed  from  biblio- 
polical  motives,  against  the  Author's  better  judgment,  and 
the  hint  that,  after  all,  it  might  not  be  really  true  (vol.  i. 
p.  214,  1st  edition),  was  slipped  in  afterwards,  a  sop  to 
conscience,  and  as  bank-notes  are  sent  by  surreptitious 
penitents  to  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  The  story 
of  Joshua  (p.  177),  who  had  cheated  one  of  the  faithful  in 
the  sale  of  a  bewitched  donkey,  is  an  invention  ;  though  it  is 
true  that  we  found  the  prison,  following  a  fair  daughter  of 
Israel  carrying  relief  to  her  father.  Of  course,  the  Lady 
Jane  in  muleteer's  costume  is  an  imaginary  sketch  :  it 
arose  from  a  conversation  on  the  possibility  of  travelling,  as 
we  were  doing,  in  married  life.  The  beggar  on  assback  was 
a  real  man,  and  the  Author  did  earnestly  advocate  robbing 
him,  but  could  not  persuade  his  companion  to  enlist  in  the 
undertaking.  The  only  other  acknowledged  fabrication  is 
the  monomaniac  planter  of  onions  and  lath  crosses  at  Coca. 
But  there  are  a  number  of  what  might  seem,  to  the  careless 
reader,  to  be  narrations,  which  are,  in  fact,  nothing  more 
than  suggestions  of  what  ?night  have  happened.  The  extra- 
vagant buccaneering  expedition  (p.  165)  ;  the  imaginary 
imprisonment  (p.  203)  ;  and  the  theoretical  robbery  of  two 
British  clergymen,  all  related  as  what  might  have  happened, 
are  surely  not  to  be  quoted  against  the  work  as  clumsy 
attempts  to  deceive,  throwing  discredit  by  implication  on 
all  the  rest  of  it,  which,  with  the  palpable  and  self-evident 
exceptions  specified,  is  strictly  faithful  to  the  fact.  In 
conclusion,   the  Author  hopes  and    trusts    that,  after    this 

38 


to  Second  Edition 

full  and  minute,  though  not  improbably  or  undesignedly 
tedious  account  of  exceptional  instances,  his  word  may  be 
taken  for  the  strict,  literal,  and  unvarnished  truth  of  the 
remainder. 


39 


The  Bridle  Roads  of  Spain 


CHAPTER  I 

On  Thursday,  October  i6th,  of  the  year  of  the  Great 
Exhibition,  I  embarked  at  the  Waterloo  station,  where 
I  booked  myself  through  to  Paris  for  two-and-twenty 
shillings. 

The  carriage  was  full  of  foreigners.  Opposite  me  was  a 
young  German,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  also  on  the  way 
to  Spain.  He  was  going  by  Lisbon,  and  I  by  Barcelona. 
I  begged  him  to  call  on  me  as  he  passed  through  Seville  in 
the  winter  ;  but,  separating  at  Southampton  for  our  several 
packets,  we  forgot  to  exchange  names. 

At  Southampton — which  we  reached  about  midnight — 
we  were  rattled  down  in  an  omnibus  to  the  pier.  Here  we 
had  to  pay  harbour  dues,  amounting  to  twopence  each 
individual,  and  a  penny  each  package. 

A  Frenchman  who  had  been  a  fortnight  in  London,  and 
had  not  an  atom  of  luggage,  made  great  outcries  at  having 
to  pay  his  twopence. 

"  Mais  c'est  infame  !  Comment  deux  pence — puisque  je 
n'ai  point  de  bagages — absolument  rien  !  'Cre  coquin  de 
pays  ou  Ton  fait  tout  payer,  meme  les  choses  qui  n'existent 
pas,  'cristie  ! " 

41 


Perfide  Albion 

I  explained  to  him  that  it  was  for  himself^  not  any  "  effets 
suppositifs  ";  and  consoled  him  with  the  reflection  that  the 
most  Spartanesque  traveller  must  at  least  carry  a  body 
about  with  him  ;  and  it  ought  not  to  vex  his  spirit  having 
to  pay  twopence  for  so  important  a  vehicle,  for,  after  all, 
twopence  was  not  a  heavy  ad  valorem  duty. 

I  met  him  again  on  deck.  He  was  a  hard-featured, 
weather-beaten  man.  One  of  his  eyes  opened  wider  than 
the  other,  with  a  ludicrous,  half-fierce,  half-bewildered 
expression.  His  shirt  was  curiously  dirty,  even  by  the 
light  of  the  fusee  with  which  he  lit  a  cigarette  I  made  for 
him  to  calm  his  nerves.  He  approved  of  the  Exhibition, 
and  said  he  had  occupied  himself  in  it  going  "  p  et  la  pour 
voir  ce  qu^il  y  avait  de  curieux  ;  car  le  pays  rie%t  pas  amusant" 
He  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English,  and  had  the  impres- 
sion that  everybody  wanted  to  cheat  him. 

There  is  a  theory  wherein  the  wisdom  of  our  ancestors  is 
supposed  to  dwell,  that  much  virtue  lies  between  the  sheets 
of  a  bed,  and  that  at  all  hazards  travellers  should  undress 
before  they  attempt  to  sleep.  To  me  it  would  appear  that 
there  is  neither  comfort  nor  amusement  in  the  taking  off 
and  putting  on  of  garments  (unless  these  functions  are 
intercalated  by  a  satisfactory  means  of  general  ablution, 
which  on  a  steamer  is  not  the  case),  but  much  the 
contrary. 

Again,  where  the  beds  are  coffins,  and  the  sheets  about 
the  breadth  and  texture  of  long-towelling,  there  is  a  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  the  narrow  strip  of  bedclothes  balanced 
on  one's  knees  and  shoulders.  The  coarse  sheets,  especially, 
show  a  strong  constitutional  tendency  to  revert  to  their 
proper  destination,  converting  themselves  into  tightly- 
twisted  cables,  and  writhing  themselves  round  their  victim, 
who,  if  he  be  a  person  of  classical  imagination,  dreams  he  is 

42 


Laocoon  in  a  Berth 

a  childless  Laocoon  in  a  cold  climate,  and  wakes  up  at  once 
stifled  and  chilled. 

The  prejudice  against  sleeping  dressed  has  doubtless 
come  down  to  us,  by  tradition,  from  days  when  dress  was 
much  tighter  and  more  uncomfortable  than  in  these  loose 
and  easy  days  of  long  waistcoats  and  tweed  shooting- 
jackets. 

Having  made  these  reflections,  I  took  ofF  my  shoes,  but- 
toned the  straps  of  my  trousers  to  prevent  them  ruckling 
up,  put  my  feet  into  the  sleeves  of  my  great-coat,  whose 
skirts  I  turned  up  over  my  knees,  spread  my  plaid  over  all, 
and  went  to  sleep. 


43 


CHAPTER  II 

Friaay^  October  17. 
It  was  a  fine  sunshiny  morning.     We  got  into  Havre  at 
a  quarter  to  ten.     I  immediately  went  ashore  and  breaic- 
fasted,  leaving  my  portmanto  to  its  fate. 

Returning  from  breakfast  in  about  half  an  hour,  my 
portmanto  was  still  on  the  deck,  unmoved  and  immovable. 
I  told  the  douaniers  that  I  must  have  my  mallei  for  I  was 
going  off  by  the  eleven  o'clock  train.  They  shrugged  their 
shoulders  and  said  it  was  impossible.  The  luggage  would 
not  be  looked  over  till  two  o'clock — that  it  was  not  their 
fault  if  the  boat  came  too  late  to  catch  the  train. 

Knowing  that  the  most  formidable  of  French  impossi- 
bilities are  always  routable  by  a  charge  of  cavalry,  I  got  a 
boat,  and  succeeded — not  without  a  considerable  amount  of 
personal  exertion  and  blustering — in  getting  my  portmanto 
on  shore  before  the  departure  of  the  eleven  o'clock 
train — too  late,  however,  to  be  registered  ;  and  I  was  hur- 
ried into  my  carriage  with  some  misgivings,  though  the 
porter  said  he  would  put  it  in.  I  was  aware  that  in  France 
nothing  can  be  done  without  the  greatest  amount  of  absurd 
and  useless  formality,  and  that  they  are  always  determined 
to  protect  you,  whether  you  think  the  risk  worth  the  incon- 
venience of  the  remedy  or  not ;  but  it  seemed  too  monstrous 
that  they  should  separate  a  man  from  his  luggage,  merely 
because  the  registry  had  closed. 

44 


A  Detruncation 

When,  in  the  front  rank  of  an  anxious  crowd,  I  rushed  to 
those  awful  folding  portals  whereover  is  written  distribu- 
tion DE  BAGAGEs  (but  where  should  be  written,  lasciate 
OGNi  speranza,  vol  CHE  NGN  registrate),  I  Waited  there 
with  agonising  sensations,  and  saw,  through  the  grating, 
trunk  after  trunk,  and  valise  after  valise,  and  every  other 
sort  of  luggage,  borne  in  on  the  shoulders  of  brawny  and 
blousy  porters.  It  came  not.  I  made  my  complaint.  It 
would  come  by  the  next  train,  five  in  the  morning.  I 
signed  my  name  in  a  book — sighed,  and  sallied  forth. 

It  was  about  six.  The  night  was  falling  fast.  I  had 
intended  to  go  direct  to  the  Lyons  railway,  and  take  up 
my  night's  quarters  at  some  neighbouring  hostel.  That 
was  now  impossible,  so  I  put  into  the  Hotel  de  Normandie, 
close  to  the  station — hired  an  apartment — rolled  up  my 
great-coat,  with  the  revolver  and  three  rouleaux  of  nine 
Napoleons  each,  put  up  in  separate  fingers  cut  off  an  old 
glove,  in  its  pockets — stuffed  the  bundle  into  a  closet, 
locked  the  door,  and  went  forth  into  the  night,  bearing 
with  me  the  key  of  my  arsenal,  treasury,  and  ward- 
robe. 

I  dined — called  on  a  friend  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens, 
and  asked  him  where  I  could  get  water-colours. 

Following  his  directions,  I  went  to  the  Place  de  la 
Bourse. 

I  was  some  time  selecting  my  paints  and  brushes.  The 
shopman,  a  smart  young  democrat,  seemed  to  take  no 
interest  whatever  in  selling  his  wares.  Probably  he  was 
the  prodigal  son  of  the  establishment,  with  a  fixed  income. 
He  seemed,  "  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  on  it,"  intensely 
bored,  and  ever  and  anon  would  ejaculate,  sotto  voce^  "  Oh, 
mon  Dieu,  est-il  possible  ! "  At  last  I  finished  my  selec- 
tion of  paints,  and   began  to  try  the  points  of  the  brushes. 

45 


A   Brush  with  the  Enemy 

This  overcame  his  last  detachment  of  patience,  and  he 
said, — 

"  Oh  ciel  !  les  pinceaux  ne  sont  pas  long  a  choisir  !  !  ! " 

"  II  me  parait  que  je  vous  ennuie  ?" 

"  Un  peu,  vraiment  !  " 

"  Comme  ce  n'est  que  pour  vous  distraire,  monsieur,  dans 
vos  moments  de  loisir  que  j'achete  ces  objets,  et  comme  il 
m'est  parfaitement  indifferent  qu'ils  soient  bien  ou  mal 
choisis,  je  continuerai  avec  deliberation  I'accomplissement 
de  mon  affaire." 

This  speech  acted,  of  course,  as  a  declaration  of  w^ar. 
Amid  much  violence  and  undiplomatic  language,  I  vi^ith- 
drew  the  golden  ambassador  I  held  in  my  hand  ready  to 
drop  into  his  capital.  He,  on  the  other  hand,  undid  my 
parcel  and  put  each  particular  paint  in  its  place,  under  the 
glass  counter,  with  a  flourish  ;  making  an  extra  flourish 
with  the  vermilion — I  suppose  by  way  of  expressing  his 
political  preference  for  that  hue. 

Thus  I  should  have  losti  my  only  chance  of  being  able  to 
make  any  water-colour  drawings  in  Spain  (for  there  are  no 
materials  to  be  bought  in  the  country,  says  the  infallible 
Mr.  Ford),  had  I  spoken  as  I  have  written. 

Instead  of  this,  at  the  point  where  he  delivered  himself 
or  the  apophthegm  "  that  paint-brushes  were  not  things 
that  took  long  to  choose,"  I  reflected  that  the  poor  young 
man  was  probably  in  love,  or  had  a  headache,  or  an  appoint- 
ment, or  had  been  recently  reproved  by  his  parents.  There- 
fore, though  I  composed  the  little  speech  in  my  head,  and 
had  it  ready  in  case  my  patience  should  happen  to  give  way, 
I  managed  to  keep  it  to  myself,  and  went  on  with  a  specious 
calmness  choosing  my  brushes,  and  at  length,  paying  my 
money,  departed  in  peace  ;  I  doubt  not  with  the  young 
man's  blessing.     Nay,  also  with  his  alms,  for  in  his  haste  to 

46 


Saturn  at  a  Discount 

be  rid  of  me,  I  think  he  gave  me  about  a  franc  too  much 
change.  However,  out  of  pity  for  his  w^eariness,  and  as  the 
paints  were  quite  dear  enough  as  it  was,  I  did  not  trouble 
him  with  restoring  it. 

I  now  wandered  about,  and  travelled  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, attempting  to  steer  by  the  stars ;  but,  though  in 
former  days  I  used  to  know  the  quartier  between  the  Seine 
and  the  Boulevard  pretty  vv^ell,  after  about  an  hour  I  came 
unexpectedly  on  the  Place  de  la  Bourse  again. 

There  was  a  man  with  a  great  telescope  planted  on  the 
pavement. 

"  Approchez-vous,  messieurs  !  Saturne  avec  son  anneau  ! 
vingt-cinq  centimes  !  " 

I  had  a  look  at  the  dull  old  grandfather  of  the  planets 
trudging  his  weary  round  through  space,  with  his  broad 
baldrick  slanting  across  his  shoulder.  A  cold  bath  at  the 
Bains  Chinois  took  the  day's  dust  off  me  on  my  way  home 
to  the  hotel,  where  I  straitly  charged  the  concierge  to  call 
me  betimes. 


47 


CHAPTER   III 

Saturday,  October  1 8. 
At  a  little  before  six  I  went  over  the  way  to  the  station. 

The  stars  were  shining.  Orion  was  high  in  the  southern 
heaven,  and  bright-eyed  Sirius  hunting  at  his  heel.  The 
Twins  were  almost  in  the  zenith,  and  the  moon  within  her 
own  breadth  of  Mars. 

I  was  just  in  time  to  see  my  lost  one  pulled  out  of  the 
luggage-van  ;  and,  after  surmounting  several  impossibilities, 
I  set  off  in  a  citadine  for  the  Lyons  railway-station. 

Dawn  was  grizzling  the  beard  of  night  (by  the  way, 
night  is  classically  an  old  woman ;  but  what  of  that, 
since  some  old  women  have  beards  ?)  as  I  mounted  my 
vehicle  :  and  as  my  jaded  and  superannuated  cart-horse 
stumbled  along  the  Boulevard,  broad  streaks  of  light 
rose  horizontally,  as  if  Phoebus  was  drawing  up  his  Venetian 
blinds. 

At  last  he  put  his  head  out  of  his  window  ;  and  the  first 
of  his  beams  fell  on  the  brazen  mountebank  who  cuts  his 
continual  caper  and  blows  his  own  trumpet  on  the  column 
of  the  Bastille. 

Having  deposited  my  luggage  at  the  foot  of  a  wood 
column,  and  having  taken  advice  of  the  railway  authorities 
as  to  the  train  to  go  by,  I  found  I  had  just  three  hours  and 
three-quarters  to  get  my  breakfast  in.  It  was  during  the 
long  blank  interval  which  succeeded  my  meal  that  I  be- 

48 


Stationary  and  the  Book-Trade 

thought  me  of  a  certain  little  book,  seven  inches  by  four — 
prepared  paper — lead  point.  I  sought  my  portmanto  at 
the  foot  of  the  pillar,  brought  the  volume  back  to  the  Cafk 
du  Chemin  de  Fer  de  Lyon^  and  began  this  history  of  my 
travels. 

I  began  it  in  the  hope  it  might  be  an  amusement  to  my- 
self, and  a  safety-valve  for  the  observations  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  pour  into  the  ears  of  my  travelling  companion, 
when  I  have  one.  But  it  proved  more  trouble  to  write  than 
I  expected,  and,  on  looking  over,  seemed  deplorably  dull. 
Let  us  hope  it  will  look  rather  better  in  print. 

Moreover,  I  found  an  agreeable  and  instructive  fellow- 
passenger  in  Major  Rawlinson,  the  arrow-headed  character. 
He  almost  persuaded  me  to  become  an  Assyrian,  and  go  out 
to  Bagdad  instead  of  Seville,  which,  if  I  had  done,  the 
reader  should  have  had  an  abstruse  treatise  on 

THE   VNIFORM   CVNEIFORM ; 

OR, 

all    the    alphabets    of    the    world    from    the    arrowhead. 

By   random    SHOTT,    F.R.S. 

instead  of  this  transpicuous  volume,  which  those  that  run 
may  read. 

The  recital  of  my  exceedingly  ordinary  and  unimportant 
adventures  has  therefore  slumbered  for  a  few  days. 

The  railway  took  us  as  far  as  Chalons,  whence  the  Saone 
steamer  carried  us  forward  and  placed  us  to  the  debit  of  the 
city  of  Lyons. 

In  Lyons  they  did  not  take  me,  like  Lord  Chatham,  "  to 
see  where  the  Rhone  and  the  Saone,  different  as  they  are, 

49 


Rhone  and  Saone 

meet  at  last."  And  if  they  had,  it  would  have  been  of 
little  use,  as  we  arrived  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  and  went 
away  by  the  early  twilight  of  dawn. 

I  could  see,  however,  that  Lyons  was  a  very  remarkable 
town  ;  and  as  we  ran  rapidly  along  the  deep  gorge  by  which 
the  Saone  enters  the  city,  where  houses  with  bright  windows 
seemed  perched  among  the  dark  masses  of  rock,  the  bell  of 
our  steamboat,  which  kept  ringing  incessantly,  awoke  a 
garrulous  society  of  shifting  echoes. 

The  Rhone  below  Lyons  begins  to  grow  gradually  from 
picturesque  to  striking,  and  from  that  to  sublime.  The 
hills  become  larger  and  ruggeder,  and  their  grey  rocks  are 
clothed  with  the  .bronzed  and  tawny  verdure  of  autumnal- 
tinted  vineyards.  Valence,  Rochemaure,  and  Viviers  are 
striking  places  ;  the  Cote-d'Or,  Ventou,  &c.,  are  respect- 
able mountains  ;  and  further  down  the  real  Alps  themselves, 
which  I  had  never  seen  before,  lifted  their  snowy  summits 
far  away  to  the  left.  It  seems  to  me  a  much  finer  river 
than  the  Rhine. 

We  performed  our  voyage  in  a  lean,  gaunt,  sheet-iron 
mammoth,  420  feet  long,  gorged  with  boxes,  and  barrels, 
and  bales  of  all  sizes  and  shapes.  We  were  ill-accommo- 
dated, and  charged  dear.  This  great  river-serpent  dragged 
its  slow  length  along  to  Avignon,  where  we  dined,  but  saw 
little  of  the  place,  except  the  Saracenic-looking  walls,  and 
the  coup  d'oeii  from  the  train.  The  railway  carried  us  in 
three  or  four  hours  to  Marseilles,  where  Major  R.  was  just 
in  time  to  start  for  his  caliphate  in  Bagdad  by  the  Con- 
stantinople steamer. 


50 


CHAPTER  IV 

Perpignan,  October  28. 
Marseilles    is    a    polyphylic,   cosmopolitan,    picturesque 
seaport,  varied  with  every  costume,  and  smelling  of  every- 
thing in  the  world,  but  especially  garlic. 

Having  nothing  on  earth  to  do,  I  went  and  sat  on  the 
endmost  post  of  the  pier  at  the  left  jaw  of  the  square  basin, 
to  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  weather,  and  admire  the  bright 
blue  waters  of  the  Mediterranean,  as  the  sunlit  sails 
scudded  over  it  hither  and  thither.  This  is  the  first  time  I 
have  seen  it.     We  are  aware  its  shores  are  empires. 

There  were  a  good  many  fruit-stalls  along  the  quays,  and 
I  ate  a  few  dozen  figs,  which  did  not  at  all  spoil  my  appetite 
for  dinner  ;  after  which  I  wrote  letters  home,  and  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  go  to  Barcelona  by  steamboat. 

On  the  morrow,  at  noon,  I  set  off  for  Perpignan,  taking 
my  place,  as  I  supposed,  all  the  way.  But  I  was  swindled 
by  the  adm'mistrateur — a  most  amiable,  civil  man, — who 
gave  me  a  Corsican  contraband  cigar. 

I  had  to  retrace  my  trams  on  the  railway  as  far  as 
Tarascon,  which  is  more  than  half-way  back  to  Avignon. 

At  Tarascon  there  was  an  interval  of  a  mile  or  two  in 
omnibuses,  and  we  crossed  the  Rhone  by  a  suspension- 
bridge.  Tarascon  has  a  fine  old  castle,  now  used  as  a 
prison.  On  the  opposite  bank  is  Beaucaire,  with  its  rival 
fortress.       In    the    days    of  Bertrand    du    Guesclin,    the 

51  D 


Tarascon  and  Beaucaire 

respective  lords  of  these  strongholds  were  at  deadly  feud. 
Olivier  de  Beaucaire,  a  sly  old  fox,  succeeded  at  last  in 
entrapping  the  gay  young  baron  of  Tarascon  ;  and,  while 
he  kept  him  a  prisoner,  and  continual  boats  were  crossing 
and  re-crossing  the  Rhone  with  negotiations  for  the  exor- 
bitant ransom  demanded,  the  captive  managed  to  captivate 
the  heart  of  Mademoiselle  Beaucaire.  She,  of  course,  let 
him  out  by  an  underground  passage.  They  were  married  ; 
their  heir  inherited  both  baronies  ;  and  the  castle  of  Beau- 
caire fell  into  premature  decay.  I  wonder  whether  the 
prisoners  of  the  period  at  Tarascon  make  love  to  the 
jailer's  daughter.  Old  Francois  de  Rastaignac,  from  whom 
I  have  this  legend,  adds  :  "  Entre  ces  beaulx  chasteaulx 
il  y  avoit  aultrefoys  une  rude  chayne  ;  et  on  faisoit  force 
octroyes,  ostant  maintes  foys  les  meilleurs  barrycqs  de  ce 
bon  vin  du  Coste  d'or,  que  tant  aymaient  les  pyeux  prestres 
d' Avignon."  ^  I  found  his  quaint  old  chronicle  on  a  book- 
stall in  Narbonne,  and  might  have  bought  it  for  two  francs 
and  a  half,  if  it  had  not  been  too  bulky  a  folio  to  carry  all 
through  the  Peninsula  and  back. 

The  run  by  rail  from  Beaucaire  to  Montpellier,  along  the 
side  of  a  broad  and  fertile  valley  full  of  olives  and  orange- 
groves,  with  rocky  hills  in  the  distance,  all  brought  out  by 
the  slanting  beams  of  sunset,  was  very  pretty  and  pleasant. 

The  summer  which  left  England  about  two  months  before 
me  is  now  decidedly  overtaken.  Leaving  Montpellier  in 
the  banquette^  which  is  the  windiest  place  in  the  diligence, 
and  wrapping  myself  up  for  a  considerable  change  in  tem- 
perature after  sundown,  I  was  too  hot  in  the  night. 

'  "  Between  these  fair  castles  there  was  of  old  a  stout  chain, 
and  they  exercised  a  considerable  tallage,  abstracting  often  the 
best  barrels  of  that  good  wine  of  Cote  d'Or,  which  the  pious  priests 
of  Avignon  so  loved." 

52 


Narb 


onne 


In  B^ziers  I  had  to  wait  from  half-past  four  to  six  in 
the  morning  for  a  change  of  carriages,  and  got  a  little 
sleep  on  the  marble  slab  of  a  caf6-table.  The  new  carriage 
proved  a  wretched  rattletrap  ;  and  it  turned  out  that  I  was 
booked  no  further  than  Narbonne. 

What  was  worse  than  the  "  disgrace  and  dishonour  "  of 
being  taken  in,  was  "  the  infinite  loss "  of  time  ;  for  it 
arrived  ten  minutes  too  late  to  catch  the  diligence  for 
Perpignan,  and  I  had  in  consequence  to  wait  ten  hours  in 
Narbonne. 

I  amused  myself  prowling  about  among  the  Roman 
remains  heaped  in  great  quantities  in  the  Museum  Gardens. 
There  is  a  fine  church,  too — especially  the  inside — stone 
roof  and  handsome  columns.  It  is  hung  with  a  quantity 
of  wretched  daubs,  which  my  informant  (a  sea-captain, 
lately  from  the  Gambia  river,  who  made  my  acquaintance 
on  the  strength  of  his  knowing  a  little  English,  and  who 
was  kind  enough  to  show  me  about  the  place)  assured  me 
were  principally  by  Rubens. 

The  streets  were  here  and  there  blocked  up  by  great 
wine-presses,  which,  as  they  were  screwed  down,  gushed 
with  purple  spouts  into  all  sorts  of  tubs,  and  jars,  and  pan- 
nikins. I  got  more  grapes  for  two  sous  than  I  could  eat  ; 
excellent  grapes  too. 

At  eight  o'clock,  very  weary  of  Narbonne,  I  set  off  for 
Perpignan,  which  I  reached  at  two  in  the  morning,  and 
went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  I  wandered  about  the  town,  and  up  to  the 
citadel.  I  inquired  for  the  commandant,  and  was  shown 
into  the  presence  of  a  polite  colonel  with  a  wooden  leg,  and 
a  long  straggling  stringy  red  beard. 

He  called  out  of  his  window,  which  overlooked  the  prin- 
cipal court  of  the  fortress,  and  there  came  up  a  smiling  old 

53 


Perpi 


ngnan 

corporal,  carrying  a  gigantic  key  or  two.  The  chatelain  led 
me  up  through  a  sort  of  cloister  into  another  higher  and 
smaller  court,  and  thence  up  into  the  high  tower. 

There  is  a  fine  view  from  the  top.  Perpignan  lies  towards 
the  southern  angle  of  a  fertile  little  province,  inclosed 
between  the  sea  and  the  mountains.  The  blue  Mediter- 
ranean rounds  the  horizon  beyond  about  three  leagues  of 
hamlet-chequered  plain  with  white  towers,  olive-groves, 
and  vineyards. 

At  about  the  same  distance  the  Pyrenees  come  up  from 
the  sea  ;  and,  growing  taller  and  taller  as  they  advance 
inland,  curve  round  to  the  sea  again  about  Narbonne. 


54 


CHAPTER   V 

La  Junquera,  October  27. 
The  Pyrenees  are  very  pretty  mountains  ;  wild  and 
picturesque,  but  not  very  grand  hereabouts.  The  diligence 
started  at  three  in  the  morning,  and  reached  the  entrance 
of  the  pass  about  daybrealc,  v^^hile  the  rosy  hues  of  the  yet 
unrisen  sun  vv^ere  creeping  from  peak  to  pealc  among  the 
distant  hills. 

We  passed  the  embattled  brow^  of  lofty  Bellegarde,  vs^hich 
looms  like  a  great  pyramid  with  some  steps  cut  in  the  top 
of  it  ;  and  I  got  out  of  France  at  El  Boulou  without  having 
my  passport  examined  on  my  passage  through  the  country. 
But,  alas  !  at  Junquera,  the  very  first  place  in  Spain,  I  was 
brought  to  a  dead  stand. 

My  passport — a  Foreign-office  one,  I  had  got  counter- 
signed at  the  Spanish  Legation,  in  Cavendish-square  ;  and 
as  it  ran,  "  Visto  en  esta  Legacion  de  su  Majestad  Catolica. 
Bueno  para  Espana,"  I  naturally  supposed  it  was  good  for 
all  Spain,  or  at  least  to  enter  the  country  anywhere  I  chose 
as  a  person  warranted  respectable. 

But  it  now  appeared  that  the  signature  of  the  Spanish 
secretary  of  legation,  to  whom  I  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
get  a  formal  letter  of  introduction,  was  of  no  value  without 
the  indorsement  of  some  trumpery  Spanish  consul  at  Per- 
pignan,  who  could  know  nothing  about  my  respectability, 
except  that  I  was  in  possession  of  a  genuine  five-franc-piece. 

55 


A  Spanish  Impossibility 

This  little  investigation,  however,  he  appears  to  think  it 
important  to  make  on  all  travellers  passing  this  W3.y  ;  and, 
doubtless,  gives  the  functionaries  at  the  frontier  something 
handsome  for  every  passport  they  turn  back  to  his 
office. 

Among  the  rushes  of  Junquera,  therefore,  I  am  planted 
for  twenty-four  hours,  till  my  passport  can  be  sent  back,  to 
be  rectified,  and  return.  My  entreaties  and  representations 
were  all  in  vain  ;  and  I  now  look  back  with  affectionate 
regret  upon  my  late  elastic  French  impossibilities,  where, 
after  all,  there  is  a  substratum  of  reason  and  benevolence 
beneath  the  frothy  surface  of  official  formality. 

I  drank  chocolate,  smoked  cigarillos,  wrote  an  indignant 
letter,  dined  on  garlicky  victuals,  slept  well,  and  set  off 
next  morning  about  the  same  hour  I  had  arrived  the  day 
before. 

The  diligence  which  brought  back  my  passport  and  took 
me  on  to  Figueras,  brought  me  also  a  companion  ; — a  merry 
little  pot-bellied,  snub-nosed  Andalusian  shipowner,  lately 
from  the  Brazils,  who  spoke  French  in  a  sort  of  pentameter 
cadence. 

He  was  of  some  use  to  me  as  an  interpreter  (for  though 
I  have  been  studying  a  book  of  dialogues  all  through 
France,  I  have  not  yet  acquired  the  Spanish  idiom),  and 
managed  well  enough  when'  there  was  plain  sailing  ;  but  in 
any  difficulty  he  fell  soft  and  was  easily  done.  But  he  had 
his  merits,  which  consisted  principally  in  eating  and  drinking, 
and  laughing  heartily. 

At  Figueras  I  ate  more  garlic,  and  nearly  made  myself 
sick  by  inhaling  a  cigarito  of  English  tobacco.  My  com- 
panions at  the  mesa  redonda  (table  d'hote)  said  they  had 
never  seen  an  Englishman  smoke  the  cigarette  before.  I 
told   them   that  I  did  that  and  ate  ajo  (garlic),  "  pour  faire 

56 


Idiomatic  Stimulants 

sortir  la  langue  Espagnole  en  in'accoutument  la  bouche  aux 
usages  du  pays," — to  bring  out  the  Spanish  tongue  by 
accustoming  my  mouth  to  the  usages  of  the  country. 

The  diligence  stopped  at  Gerona  to  sup  and  sleep.  It 
seems  a  stirring  little  city,  all  the  inhabitants  walking  about 
in  the  lamplight.  We  set  off  again  at  two  in  the  morning. 
Our  road  lay  along  the  sea-coast,  and  was  sometimes  cut 
out  of  the  face  of  the  rocks  overhanging  the  beach.  We 
breakfasted  at  Mataro,  and  took  the  railway  (which  also 
skirts  the  sea)  to  Barcelona. 

Here  I  washed  myself,  and  my  companion  shaved  and 
dressed  himself  very  smart  in  new  clothes  which  he  had 
brought  from  Marseilles.  I  was  admitted  to  his  levee^  and 
was  consulted  as  to  the  several  articles  of  apparel  he 
selected  from  his  trunk  ;  for,  like  David  with  respect  to 
Saul's  regimentals,  "  he  had  not  proved  them." 

It  was  rather  comical  to  see  this  squat,  swarthy  little 
object  trundling  about  in  his  dirty  stockings  and  drawers, 
sorting  and  selecting  his  gaudy  garments  with  as  much 
care  and  hopeful  anxiety  about  the  effect  he  was  about  to 
produce  on  Barcelona,  as  if — but  there  is  no  difference 
between  Hyperion  and  the  Satyr  when  they  look  at  them- 
selves in  the  glass.  It  is  a  beautiful  arrangement  of  Nature, 
that  the  snub-noses  and  pudding-faces,  which  so  trans- 
parently mask  the  vanity  behind  them,  are  objects  of  such 
genuine  interest  to  us. 

More  bother  with  my  passport  before  I  could  take  my 
place  in  the  steamer  for  Valencia — more  cheating  of  com- 
missioners— more  triple  bars  of  inefficient  douanerie^  which 
pretends  to  examine,  whether  you  come  in  or  go  out,  and 
is  bribed  by  ignoble  sums  to  let  it  alone. 

The  steamer  stops  a  day  at  Valencia.  I  went  up  from 
El  Grao  in  a  tartana,  breakfasted,  and  ascended  the  cathe- 

57 


Valencia 

dral  tower.  The  view  is  fine;  A  large  huddled  city 
scattering  itself  and  its  innumerable  steeples  and  towers 
through  straggling  suburbs  and  orange-groves  into  the 
fertile  huerta^  bounded   by  barren  mountains  and  the  sea. 


5« 


CHAPTER    VI 

Carthagena,    October  30. 

Alicante  has  a  picturesque  but  somewhat  tumble-down 
ortress. 

There  are  some  Americans  aboard,  one  of  whom  charac- 
terised the  above-mentioned  citadel  as  "  rather  a  high  old 
hill." 

We  went  ashore,  ate  figs  and  grapes  in  the  market, 
climbed  the  high  old  hill,  and  saw  a  noble  panorama  of 
yellow,  jagged,  oriental-looking  mountains. 

There  is  another  steamer  lying  off  here  ;  the  engineers 
are,  of  course,  Britons  in  both. 

A  voice  over  the  blue  waters — "Jim,  my  lad,  can't  you 
come  aboard  here  ?  " 

Answer — "  Ain't  got  no  time  to  day." 

"Blow  yer,  you  never  ain't  got  no  time  ;  if  you'll  come 
aboord,  I'll  give  yer  a  drop  of  blazing  good  gin."  I  made 
acquaintance  with  one  of  our  engineers,  giving  him  a  pipe 
of  British  shag  tobacco,  which  went  to  his  heart,  and 
awakened  all  the  fragrant  memories  of  his  long-deserted 
home.  He  was  a  broad  beefy  man  from  Glasgow  ;  had 
settled  his  family  in  Barcelona  ;  the  little  boy  was  at  school 
there,  but  his  mother  had  taught  him  to  read  English.  He 
was  a  sharp  lad,  and  he  wanted  to  send  him  back  to  school 
in  England  ;  the  little  girl  could  read  Spanish,  but  English 
fairly  puzzled  her. 

59 


Carthagena 


From  Alicante  to  Carthagena  we  had  cloudy  and  rough 
weather,  wind  ahead  ;  indeed,  the  Spaniards  say  we  were 
in  some  danger.  I  slept  while  the  tossing  lasted  ;  but 
about  two  in  the  morning,  when  we  got  into  the  still  water 
of  Carthagena's  harbour,  I  was  waked  up  by  the  bustle  of 
arriving,  and  could  not  get  to  sleep  again  for  the  bugs, 
which  began  biting  furiously,  as  if  they  had  been  sea-sick, 
and  just  recovered  their  appetites. 

At  Valencia  I  had  lost  my  greasy  Andalusian,  of  whom  I 
was  about  tired,  and  fallen  in  at  the  Fonda  del  Cid  (where 
I  breakfasted)  with  a  Castillian — a  dry,  spare,  high-featured, 
polite  little  man,  in  every  respect,  contrasted  with  my 
former  companion.  He  talks  more  and  better  Spanish, 
and  understands  less  French,  from  which  I  get  thus  gradu- 
ally weaned,  as  I  have  to  mix  with  it  all  the  Spanish  I  can 
pick  up,  to  make  Don  Alonzo  understand.  Sometimes  I 
venture  on  a  sentence  of  Spanish  neat,  and  am  beginning  to 
understand  a  little  of  what  is  talked.  To  listen  carefully 
and  to  talk  rashly  is  the  way  to  get  a  language. 

Carthagena  has  a  noble  harbour,  deeply  sheltered  beneath 
mountain-barriers  of  rock.  There  is  also  a  vast  and  splen- 
did arsenal.  In  the  first  are  a  few  fishing-boats  ;  in  the 
second,  about  enough  material  to  set  up  a  blacksmith,  cord- 
maker,  and  gunsmith  in  British  private  life. 

I  next  went  up  to  the  old  ruined  Moorish  castle,  and 
coming  down  rather  heated,  took  a  boat  and  bathed  in  the 
sea,  at  which  the  people  on  the  pier  were  greatly  surprised, 
for  the  day  was  cold,  as  we  might  wonder  at  a  Greenlander 
bathing  in  a  snow-storm.  The  water  was  warm  enough. 
Afterwards  we  dined  ;  the  party  consisting  of  Don  Alonzo, 
his  friend  Don  Manuel  (a  grave  man,  something  like  pic- 
tures of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  who  is  rather  deranged  in 
his  stomach  from  our  late  rough  work  at  sea),  and  myself. 

60 


Vermin   Guerillas 

We  then  adjourned  to  a  cafe,  where  we  met  another  friend 
of  Don  Alonzo's,  an  airified,  black-bearded,  young  empleado  ; 
that  is  to  say,  Government  official. 

He  had  lately  been  married,  and  wished  to  show  his 
house  and  wife  to  his  friends,  and  a  specimen  of  the  majo 
costume  to  me  :  so  we  all  went  with  him.  His  wife  was 
young  and  pretty,  and  his  holiday  costume  very  gorgeous 
— rich  green  velvet  all  covered  with  silver  spangles.  I 
admired  both,  but  expressed  my  admiration  of  the  dress. 
He  instantly  said  it  was  much  at  my  disposal  ;  and  I  re- 
plied, in  a  useful  phrase  out  of  the  handbook,  that  it  could 
not  change  its  master  without  disadvantage.  We  took  our 
leave,  and  retired  to  rest  in  our  casa  de  huespedesJ  We 
had  three  beds  in  the  same  room.  All  three  having  un- 
dressed, lit  a  long  cigar  apiece,  and  went  to  bed.  The 
lamp  was  put  out,  and  the  glowing  cigar-ends  were  all  we 
could  see  of  one  another.  I  observed,  "  Quando  se  pone 
la  luna,  las  estrellas  se  ven  "  (when  the  moon  sets,  the  stars 
appear),  which  was  received  as  a  brilliant  sally  by  the  com- 
pany, who  are  very  good-natured,  and  often  much  amused 
with  my  efforts  at  the  language. 

We  talked  and  laughed  till  our  cigars  were  done  ;  and  as 
we  were  getting  drowsy,  and  dropping  off,  Don  Alonzo 
cried  out  lustily  for  a  light,  saying,  "  Los  animalitos  ya  me 
pican  muchisimo"  (the  little  animals  have  begun  to  sting 
me  exceedingly).  I  had  nearly  choked  myself  smoking 
under  the  bedclothes,  by  way  of  dissuading  the  little  animals 
from  approaching  me  ;  but  my  torments  shortly  began,  as 
by  little  and  little  the  love  of  blood  overcame  the  dislike  to 
tobacco  in  the  minds  of  my  bedstead  population.  I  waged 
a  blind  and  ineffectual  warfare  all  night,  to  the  loss  of  my 
rest,  and  the  maculation  of  my  countenance. 
'  House  of  guests. 
6i 


Canopus 

Algeciras,   November  i. 

Left  Carthagena  towards  evening  ;  slept  on  deck  for  fear 
of  the  bugs,  with  which  my  berth  abounds.  In  the  morn- 
ing we  arrived  at  Almeria,  where  I  lost  my  friend  Don 
Alonzo.  His  wife  and  family  came  aboard  the  steamer  to 
meet  him,  and  seemed  very  glad  to  get  him  back.  He  had 
been  to  Marseilles  with  Don  Manuel,  to  see  after  a  ship 
they  had  chartered  for  that  port. 

I  now  fell  in  with  an  English  wine-merchant  on  his  way 
to  Malaga,  and  a  priggish  little  Portuguese.  Together  we 
marched  up  to  the  citadel,  which  we  entered  at  the  point 
of  the  cigar.  It  is  an  old  ruined  fortress  of  the  Moors,  full 
of  "  stones  of  emptiness,"  and  prickly  pears,  garrisoned  with 
a  single  sentry. 

Leaving  Almeria,  we  skirted  along  the  rocky  coast,  above 
which,  far  inland,  rose  the  gleaming  ridges  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada,  mantled  in  their  eternal  winding-sheet  of  snow. 
I  slept  on  deck  again.  The  night  was  windy  and  cold. 
Towards  morning,  a  large  star  rose  in  the  south,  in  a  line 
from  the  lower  horn  of  the  Bull,  through  the  belt  of  Orion, 
produced  to  about  thrice  the  distance  between  them.  I 
have  never  seen  so  far  into  the  southern  heaven  before,  but 
I  suspect  the  star  is  Canopus.  The  fore-horse  of  Charles's 
team  nearly  dips  his  nose  into  the  sea  as  he  wheels  his  wain 
round  the  sunken  pole. 

Malaga  is  a  dull  place,  celebrated  only  tor  sweet  wine 
and  invalids.  It  has  a  clumsy  cathedral,  handsomer  inside 
than  out.  In  one  part  the  stonework  is  gilt,  and  the 
churchwardens  have  probably  only  been  prevented  by  their 
poverty  from  defacing  it  all  in  the  same  expensive  way  ; 
at  least  to  us,  gilding  and  paint  detract  from  the  idea  of 
simple    magnificence   which    belongs    to    highly-wrought 

62 


Gibraltar 

stone-carving,  because  we  never  paint  and  gild  it  ourselves, 
and  are  accustomed  to  connect  all  such  appearances  with 
woodwork  and  stucco.  Besides,  gilding  does  not  go  well 
with  the  delicate  fawn-colour  of  stone,  and  destroys  all  that 
intricate  and  minute  shading  which  otherwise  falls  so  softly 
over  the  tracery  of  a  sculptured  surface.  It  is  like  gilding 
the  features  of  a  statue. 

After  dining  at  the  Fonda  de  la  Alameda^  I  went  on 
board  and  slept  on  deck.  Awakened  by  cold  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  I  found  we  were  approaching  a  small  rocky 
island.  As  we  passed,  its  form  changed  suddenly,  showing 
a  very  sharp  leaning  peak.     This  was  Gibraltar. 

I  re-arranged  myself  among  some  sails,  one  of  which  I 
half-unfurled  and  crept  into.  When  I  woke,  we  were 
lying  off  Algeciras.  Seen  from  this  point,  across  the  bay, 
Gibraltar  looks  like  an  old  man  lying  on  his  back  upon  a 
couch  nearly  level  with  the  sea, — some  huge  giant  of  the 
prime  who  had  gone  to  sleep  there,  and  proved  a  Rip  van 
Winkle  on  a  large  and  permanent  scale.  The  face,  with  a 
round  bald  head,  resting  on  its  pillow  to  the  north,  and  the 
articulation  of  the  knee,  are  very  distinct.  There  is  a 
ruckle  in  the  bedclothes  over  his  breast,  as  if  his  arms  were 
crossed. 

Gibraltar  has  no  appearance  of  fortification  in  the  dis- 
tance— "  no  towers  along  the  steep,"  and  I  should  think  it 
must  disappoint  some  hundreds  of  highly-fortified  expecta- 
tions annually.  It  is,  on  the  whole,  certainly  a  striking 
rock  ;  but  I  should  say  you  might  easily  pick  fifty  such 
along  the  west  coast  of  Scotland.  But  as  you  could  not 
carry  away  these  little  pebbles  in  your  pocket,  and  drop 
them  at  the  mouths  of  important  channels  and  seas,  I 
suppose  it  does  not  much  signify. 

The  straits,  in  passing  outward  beyond  the  ends  of  the 

63 


Gibraltar 

world  (of  ancient  navigation),  look  like  the  mouth  of  some 
gigantic  river ;  and  I  feel  sure,  that  if  the  Mediterranean 
had  been  discovered  from  the  outside,  its  finder  vi^ould  have 
been  astonished  as  he  proceeded  to  see  so  much  water, — in 
fact  to  get  into  so  large  a  bottle  by  so  narrow  a  neck. 


64 


CHAPTER    VII 

Cadiz  has  been  compared  to  a  dish  of  silver.  It  is  more 
like  a  service  of  white  china  on  a  blue  tea-tray — cups  and 
saucers,  and  teapots  and  coffee-pots,  and  butter-boats  and 
sugar-basins,  of  all  heights  and  shapes  and  sizes,  but  with 
an  undue  proportion  of  coffee-pots. 

I  steamed  across  the  blue  bay,  and  breakfasted  with  Don 
Francisco  Morgan,  a  wine-merchant  of  Puerto  de  Santa 
Maria,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter.  According  to  the  custom 
of  the  country,  there  was  wine  on  the  table,  and  after 
breakfast  I  drank  a  glass  of  better  sherry  than  I  remember 
tasting  before. 

Happening  to  say  so,  he  replied,  "  Do  you  like  it  ? 
Very  few  Englishmen  do  at  first.     It  is  the  pure  wine." 

"  What ! "  said  I,  "  do  you  adulterate  your  wines,  and 
own  it  without  contrition  ? " 

"  Without  the  slightest,  for  the  mixture  increases  the 
cost  of  the  wine.  The  natural  dry  wine  which  grows 
about  Xeres  is  seldom  sent  to  England  unless  specially 
ordered.  It  is  flavoured,  to  suit  the  market,  with  a  luscious 
sweet  wine  of  the  same  neighbourhood,  and  tinted  with 
what  is  called  burnt  wine,  that  is,  wine  boiled  down  till  it 
is  thick  and  dark-coloured.  This  creates  a  confusion  of 
flavour,  and  destroys  the  fine  clear  twang  of  a  natural  vin- 
tage. We  ourselves  much  prefer  it  unmixed,  finding  it 
much  wholesomer,  as  well  as  more  palatable;  and   if  our 

65 


Wady'l  Kubir  (Arabice,   Big  River) 

English  customers  would  learn  to  like  sherry  in  its  simple 
state,  it  would  save  us  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  and  them 
some  expense." 

He  took  me  over  a  large  bodega  (cellar),  and  made  me 
taste  a  few  dozen  pipes,  of  diflFerent  ages  ;  also  the  sweet 
sherry  and  burnt  wine,  neither  of  which  were  bad  by  them- 
selves, though  I  don't  think  they  improve  the  original  sherry. 

The  Sefiora  Morgan  had  a  sister  married  to  a  marques  in 
Seville,  and  to  him  Don  Francisco  gave  me  a  letter  of 
introduction.  He  also  gave  me  a  letter  of  credit  on  a 
banker  in  Cadiz,  which,  with  singular  providence,  I  had 
entirely  omitted  to  take  into  consideration  before  leaving 
England,  as  I  then  had  my  pockets  full  of  money.  It  was 
quite  an  accident  my  having  any  letters  of  introduction 
even,  of  which  some  kind  friend,  whom  I  never  asked  nor 
thanked,  threw  a  few  into  my  portmanto. 

Guadalquivir  is  a  flat-banked,  muddy  river,  adorned  only 
by  some  distant  mountains  of  the  Sierra  de  Ronda  to  the 
right.  Seven  hours  brought  us  in  sight  of  the  Giralda  and 
the  Golden  Tower. 

A  cosmopolitan  vagabond  from  Gibraltar  conducted  me 
to  the  Fonda  de  Madrid,  a  clean  and  respectable  hotel. 
He  took  me  in  by  the  gate  of  Triana.  Let  everybody 
coming  to  Seville  by  the  steamer  insist  on  entering  by  the 
gate  of  San  Fernando,  which  is  not  a  hundred  yards  out  of 
his  way  whatever  hotel  he  is  going  to  ;  as  by  doing  so  he 
will  pass  the  Cathedral  and  Plaza^  and  get  a  favourable  first 
impression  of  the  city. 

I  resisted  the  overtures  of  the  Gibraltese  laquais  de  place^ 
conceiving  I  should  have  leisure  to  grope  about,  and  find 
out  what  was  worth  seeing  in  the  course  of  the  winter 
without  being  led  or  driven. 

The  second   day  after   my  arrival   in  Seville  some  pas- 

66 


A   Re-encounter 

sengers  came  in  from  the  steamer  during  the  table  d'hote 
dinner,  and  among  them  was  the  young  German  I  had  met 
at  the  Waterloo  station,  and  travelled  to  Southampton  with. 
We  agreed  that  the  world  cannot  be  half  so  big  as  is  sup- 
posed, since  if  you  meet  a  man  once,  it  is  always  even 
betting  that  you  will  meet  him  again.i  Together,  we 
explored  the  city,  discovered  the  cathedral,  and  wandered 
through  its  dim,  vast,  echoing  aisles,  where  innumerable 
quaintly-carved  and  painted  virgins  stand  amid  their  several 
constellations  of  candles ;  and  here  and  there  some  divine 
picture  by  Murillo  or  Alonso  Cano,  looks  graciously  down 
from  its  dark  recess,  through  massive  gates  of  gilded  iron. 
We  stood  before  the  famous  Guardian  Angel.  New-lighted 
from  the  clouds,  and  looking  down  with  serious  eyes  of  love 
upon  his  charge,  he  leads  the  baby  soul  with  one  hand,  and 
with  the  other  points  to  a  brightening  Heaven.  We  stood 
and  gazed,  while,  murmuring  far  away  in  mellow  cadence, 
rose  and  fell  the  many-voiced  chant ;  and,  faintly  wafted 
from  the  swinging  censers,  came  fragrant  incense  in  trans- 
parent wreaths. 

I  called  on  the  Marques  de  Castilleja  and  delivered  my 
letter.  He  was  an  amiable,  intelligent  man,  with  very  quiet 
manners,  light  complexion,  and  talked  excellent  French. 
He  bade  me  be  seated  in  a  comfortable  arm-chair,  and  made 
no  sort  of  fuss  about  my  hat,  which  rather  took  me  aback  ; 
as  I  had  carefully  got  up  all  the  ancient  ceremonial  de- 
scribed in  Ford,  and  was  prepared  to  struggle  at  least  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  which  of  us  should  set  it  down.     Instead 

'  I  met  him  again  at  Malaga,  and  three  years  afterward  in 
Naples.  He  told  me  he  was  engaged  to  a  Malagan  lady,  and 
was  about  to  settle  there  in  the  wine-trade.  Any  reader  about 
to  order  sweet  or  dry  Malaga  is  recommended  to  Herr  Rudolph 
Dill. 

67  ,  E     ■ 


Introductions 

of  this,  he  sat  down  again  on  the  sofa  from  which  he  had 
risen  to  make  me  welcome,  and  opened  the  conference  by 
offering  me  a  cigar. 

As  we  sat  smoking,  another  gentleman  came  in,  and  was 
introduced  to  me  as  the  Marques  de  Esquibel,  the  vice- 
president  of  the  Casino  or  club,  who  promised  to  send  me  a 
card  of  presentac'ion^  whereby  the  person  presented  becomes 
a  member  by  invitation  for  twenty  days,  after  w^hich  time, 
if  he  continues  in  Seville,  he  is  balloted  for,  and  becomes  a 
subscribing  member  at  about  six  shillings  a  month. 

When  our  cigars  were  ended,  I  took  my  leave  ;  on  which 
the  marques  placed  his  house  at  my  disposal,  and  I  replied 
that  he  also  possessed  a  house  at  the  Fonda  de  Madrid. 

In  a  day  or  two  he  called,  and  told  me  that  he  vv^as  now 
in  mourning  for  his  father  (who  had  died  a  few  months 
ago),  and  therefore  went  about  but  little  ;  also  having  a 
great  deal  of  business,  settling  his  mayorazgo  (entail),  and 
paying  off  his  brother's  and  sister's  fortunes.  He  would 
therefore  present  me  to  a  great  friend  of  his,  who  was 
"  moving  in  circles,"  and  could  introduce  me  to  his  friends 
at  the  club  and  opera. 

We  went  out  together,  and  arrived  at  a  stately  marble 
gateway  of  a  large  house,  just  opposite  the  Museum,  in  the 
Calle  de  las  Armas.  Here,  through  the  slender  and  grace- 
ful tracery  of  the  reja  or  filigree  gate,  could  be  seen  a 
marble-floored  and  pillared  and  fountained  patio.  We  rang. 
"  Quien  es  ?  "  was  exclaimed,  in  the  shrill  voice  of  the 
portress.  (Who  is  it  r)  "  Gente  de  paz"  (People  of 
peace),  I  replied,  to  show  I  knew  what  to  say  ;  on  which 
the  door  opened  by  a  hidden  spring,  and  the  marques 
laughed,  and  wondered  where  I  got  that  old-fashioned 
answer.     I  said  I  had  a  red  book  full  of  cosas  (T Espafia. 

Don  Jose  Laso  de  la  Vega  was  finishing  a  small  concert, 

68 


Murillo 

in  which  he  played  the  flute.  We  begged  him  to  proceed 
while  we  smoked  our  cigars.  The  marques  left  me  here, 
and  went  back  to  his  papers  and  lawyers.  After  a  while 
the  musicians  departed,  and  I  went  out  with  Don  Jos6  and 
visited  the  Museo. 

After  getting  weary  in  long  galleries  of  indifferent  pic- 
tures, we  came  into  the  Sala  de  Murillo,  a  large  room  hung 
round  with  Murillo's  best  pictures.  I  never  saw  such 
pictures  before — such  soft,  transparent,  airy,  and  yet  real 
imaging  of  things  divine.  His  cherubs  look  as  if  a  slight 
draught  would  float  them  out  of  their  frames.  It  is  worth 
while  to  go  to  Seville  if  it  were  only  to  see  this  room. 

We  took  a  walk  afterwards  in  the  town  ;  and  a  shower 
coming  on,  sought  shelter  in  an  estanco  de  tabacos^  where 
the  Calle  de  las  Sierpes  debouches  on  the  Plaza  de  la 
Constitucion.  Here  behind  the  counter  sat  a  lady  of  great 
beauty  and  wit,  entertaining  a  handful  of  loitering  admirers 
with  brilliant  things,  which  made  them  laugh  very  much, 
and  which  I  was  grieved  not  to  understand.  This  was  the 
celebrated  Asuncion  Gonzalez.  Don  Jos6  formally  intro- 
duced me,  and  she  received  me  with  gracious  condescension. 
I  was  surprised  at  the  respectful  deference  with  which  the 
young  men  treated  her  ;  but  I  shortly  learned  that  she  was 
a  formidable  sort  of  Aspasia,  and  a  match  for  any  Pericles 
that  Seville  could  produce.  As  the  Calle  de  las  Sierpes  is 
the  principal  thoroughfare  of  Seville,  which  one  passes 
every  day  wherever  one  is  bound,  I  made  a  practice  of 
buying  my  cigarillos  in  her  estanco^  and  carried  on  during 
my  stay  in  Seville  a  serio-comic,  but  strictly  Platonic  court- 
ship, which  greatly  improved  my  Spanish.  The  only  excep- 
tion to  the  Platonic  character  of  our  friendship  was  one 
kiss  fairly  bargained  for  and  received,  in  the  way  of  busi- 
ness, for  a  portrait  of  herself,  executed  in  my  best  style  in 

69 


How  to  Learn  Spanish 

water-colours.  I  made  sonnets  to  her  eyebrows  in  the 
most  Castalian  Castillian  I  was  master  of,  and  sat  on  the 
counter  reading  them  in  my  most  impressive  manner.  I 
made  her  a  silver  heart,  engraved  with  a  bolted  and  pad- 
locked folding-door,  and  a  weeping  Cupid  waiting  on  the 
door-step ;  which,  being  worn  round  her  neck,  was  to 
cause  her  heart  to  open  to  me  in  the  course  of  nine  days ; 
but  I  never  got  any  forwarder,  except  in  the  language. 
Here  is  one  of  the  lays  : — 

A  ti  dichosa  amar  parece  broma, 

Apinado  tu  corazon  de  amores. 

El  que  so  aguarda  un  rate  entre  las  Acres 
Luego  por  harto  perdera  el  aroma. 

Amada  de  tantos  tu  dulce  flor, 

Por  tan  amada  pierdes  el  amor. 

Medroso,  como  con  alas  cansadas 

Por  media  mar  un  ave  a  barco  viene, 
Mi  desterrado  corazon  que  tiene 

Ninguna  percha  de  sus  aletadas, 
Llegaba  descansar  sobre  tu  pecho — 
Ay,  de  que  frio  encuentra  el  rico  lecho  ! 

Translated  thus  (after  the  manner  of  the  Ancients)  : — 

To  thee,  the  portals  of  whose  heart  serene 
A  hundred  lovers  throng,  love  seems  a  jest. 

One  that  in  sweetest  flowers  long  couch'd  hath  been 
Shall  find  their  fragrant  perfume  lose  its  zest. 

Thou  by  so  many  prized,  most  rarest  flower. 

From  being  so  much  loved,  know'st  not  love's  power. 

As  in  mid-ocean  comes  with  weary  wings 

Some  timid  bird  upon  a  sail  to  light, 
Mine  exiled  heart  with  weary  flutterings. 

Without  a  resting-place  to  ease  its  flight. 
Hath  come  at  last  to  perch  upon  thy  breast — 
Alas,  how  cold  a  spot  to  seek  for  rest ! 
70 


Sevillised  Life 

I  suppose  I  contrived  to  amuse  her,  for  she  tolerated  me 
as  one  of  her  most  troublesome  adorers  :  she  certainly 
amused  me,  and  I  hope  the  reader  will  not  be  scandalised. 

I  lived  in  the  house  of  one  Juliana,  once  a  celebrated 
beauty  ;  here  also  lived  my  Spanish  master,  Sefior  Vasquez 
— the  only  master  of  languages  in  all  Seville.  He  speaks 
and  teaches  English,  French,  and  his  native  language.  The 
course  of  my  life  used  to  be  something  like  this  : — 

In  the  morning  I  read  Don  Quixote  w^ith  Sefior  Vasquez. 
Breakfast  on  chocolate  and  toast.  Feeling  rather  cold,  I 
open  my  window  and  go  out  to  smoke  a  cigarillo  on  the 
sunny  balcony,  during  which  I  divide  my  attention  between 
the  stream  of  cloaked  and  mantilla'd  figures  passing  through 
the  Calle  de  Velasquez,  and  a  beautiful  sefiora  over  the 
way.  She  is  separated  from  her  husband,  and  sits  stitching, 
or  reading  her  missal  at  the  window  all  day. 

Then  I  sit  reading,  writing,  or  engraving  ;  and  perhaps 
Miguel  Laso  de  la  Vega,  or  Ramon  Ponce  de  Leon,  or 
Antonio  Rueda,  come  in  and  smoke  a  cigar.  Then  we  go 
out  for  a  walk,  and  coming  about  three  o'clock  down  to 
the  Orilla  quay  (which  is  both  the  Serpentine's  shore  and 
the  Rotten-row  of  Seville),  there  pace  about  among  the 
beauty  and  fashion  of  the  place  on  the  pleasant  shore  of 
Guadalquivir. 

This  is  really  the  drawing-room  of  Sevillian  society,  for 
there  is  no  general  society  anywhere  else.  A  few  houses 
make  a  feeble  effort  at  evening  parties,  but  it  is  contrary  to 
the  habits  of  the  city,  and  does  not  succeed.  Houses  are 
looked  upon  as  home  ;  merely  places  to  live,  and  eat,  and 
sleep,  as  privately  as  possible.  In  the  opera  or  theatre  and 
the  paseo  (public  walks)  they  manage  to  see  enough  of  their 
acquaintances.  Intimate  friends  are  of  course  a  part  of 
home,  and  may  sit  in  a  corner  of  the  sala,  lighted  only  by 

71 


The  Casino 

the    dim    smouldering    embers   of  the    brasero,   while    the 
seHora  madre  mends  her  stockings  by  the  solitary  lamp. 

I  dine  at  home  and  go  to  the  Casino  for  coffee.  Here, 
in  a  long  narrow  room,  a  group  are  standing  in  animated 
conversation  before  the  blazing  wood-fire  at  the  end  ;  and 
all  along  the  sofa-range  on  either  side,  are  rows  of  gentle- 
men with  little  tables  standing  before  them,  and  cups  of 
very  black  coffee  or  very  pale  tea,  according  as  the  table's 
occupant  may  emulate  English  or  French  manners. 

"  Buenos  tardes,  Don  Jorge  ;  Good    evening,   Don   Jorge  ; 

como  va  ?  how  goes  it  ? 

"  Sin  novedad ;  y  Vmd.  Seiior  Without   novelty  ;   and  your 

Conde  ?  worship,  Sir  Count  ? 

"  Perfectamente.  To  perfection. 

"  M'alegro.  I  rejoice. 

"  Va  Vmd.  al  teatro  ?  Do  you  go  to  the  Opera  ? 

"  No  tengo  inconveniente.  I  don't  mind. 

"  Luego  iremos  juntos.  Presently  we  will  go  together. 

"  Hasta  luego.  Till  then — " 

I  sit  down  and  cry  "Juan  !  "     The  waiter  comes. 

"  Me  traiga  Vmd.  cafe.  May  your  worship  bring  me 

coffee. 
"  Ya  voy.  Already  I  go." 

As  he  brings  the  coffee,  Don  Lorenzo,  who  is  a  captain 
of  artillery,  comes  and  sits  down  by  me.  He  is  "  muy 
formal  y  politico"  (very  punctilious  and  polite),  and  justly 
proud  of  his  French. 

"  Bon  soir,  mon  ami." 

*' Bon  soir,  M.  le  Capitaine.  Qu'iere  Vmd.  cafe?" — (Do 
you  desire  coffee  ?)  (If  you  are  eating  or  drinking,  and  a 
person  comes  and  speaks  to  you,  it  is  indispensable  to  offer 
him  some.)  He  says  "  Muchas  gracias "  (many  thanks), 
which  means  No. 

72 


and  its   Habitues 

"  Allons  !  un  cigare  ? " 

"  Avec  plaisir.  Savez-vous  les  dernieres  nouvclles  de  la 
Reine  ? " 

"  J'espere  qu'elle  se  porte  mieux." 

"  On  dit  que  la  blessure  tient  neuf  pouces  de  profondeur." 

"  Quelle  merveille  qu'elle  n'est  pas  morte  !  Comment 
trouvez-vous  le  cigare  ?  " 

"  C'est  de  tres  bon  tabac." 

As  I  increased  in  my  Spanish,  my  friends,  who  had 
formerly  talked  French  to  me,  began  to  give  it  up  ;  for, 
whatever  persons  may  intend  to  do,  they  do  always  practic- 
ally converse  in  that  tongue  which  is,  on  the  whole,  the 
easiest  means  of  communication  ;  and  I  could  mark  my 
progress  in  the  language  as  it  rose  and  flooded,  one  by  one, 
nearly  all  the  French  of  my  acquaintance. 

A  large  party  generally  adjourned  to  the  opera  soon  after 
seven.  Don  Jos6  Laso  assured  me  that  his  box  [palco)  was 
my  house,  and  I  used  often  to  go  there,  not  for  the  music, 
which  was  third-rate,  but  being  a  large  sheltered  box  over 
the  stage,  it  was  a  convenient  place  to  talk  and  smoke,  and 
there  were  usually  assembled  in  it  half  a  dozen  or  so  of  my 
most  intimate  friends.  After  the  theatre  I  either  went  to 
bed,  an  evening  party,  or  back  to  sup  on  chocolate  and  pan 
frito  I  at  the  Casino. 

Sometimes,  of  mornings,  I  used  to  go  and  sit  in  the 
studio  of  Egron  Lundgren,  a  very  clever  artist  and  agree- 
able young  man.  He  is  a  Swede,  and  speaks  English, 
French,  Spanish,  Italian,  German,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
many  other  languages,  all  very  well.  His  paintings  were 
usually  the  costumes  of  the  country,  which  he  did  with 
great  truth,  spirit,  and  taste  ;  and  great  force  and  tone  of 
colouring.  He  also  does  admirable  rapid  sketches  in  water- 
'  Bread  fried  in  oil. 

73 


Lundgren's  Studio 


colours,  and  he  used  to  give  me  a  hint  or  two  now  and 
then,  and  let  me  copy  what  I  liked  out  of  his  portfolio, 
which  was  full  of  gems. 

Sometimes  I  used  to  take  a  long  walk  by  myself,  and 
once  got  as  far  as  Santi  Ponce,  when  I  slept  in  the  pajar 
(straw-loft)  of  the  venta  there  ;  and  next  day  went  on  to 
the  ruins  of  the  ancient  city  of  Italica,  where  there  are  the 
remains  of  a  Roman  theatre.  But  this  is  described  else- 
where. 

Once  the  Marques  de  Castilleja  took  me  out  for  a  day  or 
two  to  a  country-house  of  his  in  the  Campo  de  Carmona, 
where  he  has  olive-farms.  I  wrote  at  the  time  some  little 
account  of  the  expedition,  and  here  it  is. 


74 


CHAPTER    VIII 


VISIT   TO    AN    OLIVE-FARM 


Sevilla,  Pasqua  de  los  Reyes,  1852. 
On  Saturday,  January  4,  1852,  I  dressed  myself  in  my 
Andalusian  costume,  breakfasted,  put  up  a  couple  of  shirts 
and  other  things,  "tan  claras  y  tan  necessarias  que  no  es 
menester  de  describirlas  "  ;  ^  besides  which,  I  stuck  the  six- 
barrelled  revolver  in  uvy  faja  (sash). 

I  sat  smoking  my  cigarillo  over  a  chapter  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis.  There  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  I  cried, 
*■'■  Jdelantes''''  (forward),  and  he  entered, — not  the  person  I 
was  waiting  for,  but  my  preceptor  in  the  Spanish.  It  was 
not  his  day,  but  he  had  missed  the  preceding,  his  hours 
having  been,  as  they  often  are,  deranged  by  saints'  days, 
and  he  came  now  instead.  Though  I  had  no  idea  we  should 
have  time  to  finish  it,  I  began  my  lesson,  to  fill  up  the 
moral  vacuum  w'hich  is  always  caused  by  expecting  any- 
body, and  was  busy  translating  "The  Bible  in  Spain"  into 
my  best  extempore  Spanish,  when  an  ancient  serving-man 
of  the  Marques  de  Castilleja  arrived,  and  informed  me  that 
the  marques  was  waiting  in  the  Calle  de  la  Muela,  my 
own  street  (the  Calle  de  Velasquez)  being  too  narrow  for 
carriages. 

'  "  So  evident  and  so  necessary  that  it  is  not  needful  to  describe 
them." — Don  Quixote. 

IS 


Commencement  of  Journey 

I  put  on  my  Calanies  hat,  which  is  about  the  shape  and 
size  of  a  small  cheese  or  a  large  skittle-ball,  and  my  coarse 
capa  (cloak)  of  panno  par  do  (brown  cloth)  turned  up  with 
scarlet,  under  the  ample  folds  of  which  I  carried  my  little 
linen  bag  of  movables,  and  sallied  forth.  I  found  the 
marques  (also  got  up  for  the  country  in  the  national  cos- 
tume) seated  in  a  very  red  and  yellow  calesa^  and  we  jogged 
slowly  out  of  the  town  by  the  gate  of  Triana. 

This  gate  is  exactly  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  town 
from  our  direction  ;  but  we  took  it  because  the  streets  are 
in  that  direction  passable,  which  those  towards  the  Cafios 
de  Carmona  scarcely  are. 

Having  made  half  the  circuit  of  the  city  outside  the 
walls,  we  turned  towards  the  open  country  by  the  road 
which  skirts  the  ancient  Moorish  aqueduct  [cafios)  which 
supplies  the  city  with  water.  The  famous  Guadalquivir 
supplies  it  only  with  a  limited  navigation  and  unlimited  mud. 

The  roads  were  very  bad,  and  we  went  along  at  a  foot- 
pace, till,  passing  the  Cruz  del  Campo,  we  came  to  Torre 
Blanca,  where  there  is  a  white  tower  (from  which  the  place 
takes  its  name),  a  toll-bar,  and  a  venta.  Here  we  descended 
to  drink  a  glass  of  manzanilla  and  eat  a  little  round  sponge- 
cake whitened  with  sugar  outside,  which  the  ventero  in- 
formed us  were  "  muy  buenos,  de  Alcala."  At  Torre 
Blanca  we  left  the  carnino  real^  and  struck  off  on  the  old 
arrecife  (by-road)  de  Carmona  ;  and  the  dark  green  orange- 
groves,  interspersed  with  still  darker  cypress  spires,  which 
had  lined  the  approach  to  Seville,  changed  into  the  bushy 
dehesoj  or  wilderness. 

The  narrow  track  was  lined  with  wild  olives  and  palmitas^ 
and  here  and  there  the  aloe  lifted  its  gigantic  spikes. 

The  road  did  not  improve,  being  in  places  hidden  by  long 
pools  of  water.     The  day  was  beautiful,  and  we  went  along 

76 


Description  of  the  Road 

talking  and  laughing,  without  troubling  ourselves  about  the 
pace  we  went,  more  than  an  occasional  word  of  banter  with 
the  steady  old  calesero^  who  sat  at  the  marques's  feet,  with 
his  legs  dangling  over  the  shafts. 

To  the  left  appeared,  through  the  misty  mid-day  sunshine 
of  the  plain,  the  brown  range  of  the  Sierra  Morena  ;  and  to 
the  right,  in  the  far  distance,  arose  the  blue  mountains  of 
Ronda. 

After  a  while  the  dehesa  changed  to  olive-groves,  and  we 
got  into  mazy  private  roads  which  wound  among  the  trees. 
At  last,  after  about  three  hours  and  a  half,  we  came  in  sight 
of  a  long  low  mass  of  white  building,  with  a  pinnacle- 
mounted  gateway,  through  which  we  passed,  amid  the 
greetings  of  a  motley  crowd  of  retainers,  into  a  vast  court- 
yard, around  which  were  the  establishments  for  grinding 
the  olives  and  storing  the  oil,  besides  stables  and  dwellings 
for  the  retainers. 

Here,  leaving  the  calesa^  we  went  through  an  iron  gate 
into  ^  patio  (court)  with  a  fountain  and  marble  arches  and 
columns.  The  house  was  a  curious,  rambling  arrangement 
of  corridors  and  passages,  and  galleries  hung  with  quaint 
old  family  portraits  in  wigs  and  brocade,  and  likenesses  of 
the  kings  of  Judah,  signalised  with  their  respective  names 
in  yellow  paint. 

Having  inspected  the  house,  and  lastly  reached  the 
dining-room,  the  basket  which  had  come  with  us  from 
Seville  was  unpacked,  and  out  of  it  came  cold  fowls,  and 
ham  and  beef,  butter,  chocolate,  and  a  paper  of  tea.  As  it 
was  three  o'clock,  we  lunched,  and  ordered  dinner  at  nine, 
being  waited  upon  by  a  stout  old  lady,  the  wife  of  the  steward. 

Each  of  us  now  armed  himself  with  a  polished  yew  club, 
which  appears  to  be  the  legitimate  companion  of  predial 
inspection,  and  sallied  forth.     This  stick    (called  porro)  is 


The  Olive-Mill 

five  or  six  feet  long,  usually  forked  at  the  smaller  end, 
and  is  held  a  little  above  the  middle,  with  the  heavy  knob 
on  the  ground  ;  so  that  when  you  walk,  it  swings  between 
its  planting-places  like  a  pendulum.  The  one  the  marques 
used  was  a  sort  of  hereditary  rural  sceptre,  which  had 
descended  to  him  from  the  hands  of  his  father  and  grand- 
father, and  very  likely  from  their  fathers  and  grandfathers 
to  them. 

We  first  went  to  see  the  olive-mill.  In  form  it  very 
much  resembles  a  chocolate-mill : — a  huge  wheel  of  granite, 
shaped  like  the  thick  end  of  a  cone,  rolls  round  a  piece  of 
timber  on  which  it  is  pivoted,  being  drawn  by  a  mule 
yoked  to  a  crooked  beam.  This  beam,  jutting  from  the 
central  timber,  bends  over  the  wheel,  receiving  half-way 
the  other  end  of  its  axle. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  central  timber  (which  is  also 
pivoted  in  the  stone  crushing-floor  and  a  beam  of  the  roof) 
there  is  a  wooden  funnel  full  of  olives.  This  keeps  slowly 
laying  down  the  plump  purple  berries,  which  the  roller,  as 
it  comes  round,  crushes  with  a  fat  crackling  sound,  not 
unlike  that  which  proceeds  from  the  basting  of  meat,  only 
on  a  larger  scale. 

The  pulp,  as  it  accumulates,  is  shovelled  off  and  placed 
in  layers  between  round  mats  under  the  press.  These  mats 
are  about  six  feet  in  diameter,  and  have  a  hole  in  the  middle. 
When  there  is  a  sufficient  pile  of  pulp  and  mat  sandwiches, 
the  whole  is  wetted  with  hot  water,  and  the  press  (an 
immense  lever,  about  forty  feet  long)  comes  down  upon  it, 
being  lifted  at  the  other  end  by  a  screw  with  spokes  like  a 
capstan.  The  oil,  of  course,  floats  on  the  surface  of  the 
water  and  is  run  off  into  tanks. 

Having  seen  how  the  oil  was  made,  we  went  out  to  see 
how  the  olives  were  gathered,  accompanied  by  Ramoncillo, 

78 


The  Gathering 

the  gamekeeper, — a  strange,  lurching  vagabond,  who  squinted 
at  right  angles,  and  had  all  his  arms  and  legs  of  different 
lengths.  He  wore  the  dress  of  the  country,  much  the 
worse  for  wear  ;  over  his  broad,  red,  slovenly-arranged  faja 
were  strapped  a  profusion  of  outlandish  belts  and  baldricks, 
and  in  his  hand  he  bore  a  musket  ornamented  with  silver. 

After  wandering  some  time  among  the  devious  paths  of 
the  olive-grove,  we  found  the  little  colony  of  gatherers  ;  for 
colony  it  seemed,  being  composed  of  men,  women,  and 
children  down  to  the  smallest  possible  dimensions.  The 
babies,  who  had  usually  a  very  little  girl  to  take  care  of 
them  (unless  they  were  slung  up  in  a  manta  out  of  the  way, 
among  their  metaphorical  brotherhood  of  olive-branches), 
sprawled  and  babbled  around  headquarters. 

Here,  by  a  purple  mountain  of  spoil,  stood  the  general 
of  the  army,  who  in  all  directions  were  waging  war  with  the 
trees  of  peace,  besieging  them  with  scaling-ladders,  and 
belabouring  them  with  long  staves.  The  women  (whose 
petticoats  were  tucked  up  above  their  waists,  but  who,  to 
make  up  for  this  little  deficit  of  decency,  wore  breeches)  were 
on  their  knees  underneath,  picking  up  the  bright  little  berries 
as  they  rained  from  the  beaten  boughs.  I  tasted  an  olive, 
though  I  was  aware  it  was  not  likely  to  be  good.  Let  the 
reader  imagine  a  rotten  morel  cherry  soaked  in  oil,  and  he 
will  not  be  far  from  having  an  idea  of  a  ripe  olive,  except 
that  there  is  a  bitter,  astringent  after-taste,  which  sticks  in 
the  throat,  and  prickles  on  the  tongue  for  some  time. 

The  green  olives,  which  we  eat  in  their  pickled  state,  are 
no  more  like  the  ripe,  than  pickled  walnuts  are  like  the 
walnuts  of  dessert. 

When  any  of  the  women  had  filled  their  baskets,  they 
came  with  them  on  their  heads  to  the  purple  mountain 
aforesaid,  and  discharged  their  gatherings  upon  the  heap. 

79 


The  Tallies 

If  there  was  much  leaf  and  rubbish  mixed  with  the  fruit, 
the  woman  tilted  up  her  basket  behind,  and  let  a  slender 
stream  of  olives  fall  from  above  her  forehead,  while  a  man 
with  a  flapping  sack  winnowed  away  the  lighter  matters. 

Over  the  heap  stood  guard  the  steward  or  capataz^  an 
ancient  man,  with  a  grizzly  stubble  on  his  chin  (for  it  was 
Saturday),  standing  with  his  legs  apart,  broadly  planted  in 
the  dignity  of  his  office.  The  straddling  supporters  of  this 
weight  of  importance  were  incased  in  what  seemed  in  front 
to  be  a  pair  of  brown  sheepskin  breeches,  but  from  behind 
revealed  themselves  to  be  but  a  slit  apron,  fastened  with 
thongs  round  each  leg.  Both  his  hands  were  on  his  hips, 
with  each  thumb  hooked  in  the  folds  o^hhfaja^  and  in  the 
fingers  of  his  right  was  a  crooked  whittle,  with  which  ever 
and  anon,  as  the  basketfuls  arrived,  he  would  nick  the  score 
upon  notch-sticks  which  hung  in  a  curve  of  string  between 
two  branches  of  an  olive  hard  by. 

These  sticks  were  regular  tallies.  Each  basket  had  a  couple 
of  loops,  in  which  the  gatherer's  stick  rested,  and  when  the 
basket  was  discharged,  the  bearer  presented  it  to  the 
capataz.  He,  fitting  it  on  to  its  brother  on  the  line,  nicked 
them  both  with  his  eagle-beaked  blade. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  we  returned  to  the  hacienda 
(farm).  The  marques  said  that  the  cura  would  probably 
have  arrived  by  the  time  we  got  home.  He  came  from 
Carmona  every  Saturday  to  say  mass  on  the  Sunday  morn- 
ing, being  chaplain  of  the  establishment.  We  found  the 
olive-mill  still  working,  lighted  by  flaring  wicks  in  iron 
saucers  of  its  own  oil.  At  one  of  these  we  lighted  our 
cigars,  and  were  talking  to  the  millers,  when  there  entered 
a  corpulent  old  figure,  dressed  in  a  rusty-brown  jacket 
and  breeches,  a  Calanih  hat,  black  leathern  botines  (the 
embroidered  greave  of  the  country),  and  a  broad  hlzckfaia: 

80 


The  Curate 

he  embraced  the  marques  with  great  affection  and  a  profuse 
ejaculation  of  "vayas."^  The  marques  presented  me  as  "un 
Ingles  amigo  mio." — "  Y  muy  amigo  mio — Vaya,  vaya, 
vaya  !  "  answered  the  courteous  cura^  for  so  he  effectively 
turned  out,  though  at  first  I  took  him  to  be  some  superin- 
tendent over  the  head  of  the  stout  Madruga. 

We  now  entered  the  house,  where,  at  the  end  of  one  of 
the  galleries,  a  great  wood  fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth. 
Here  we  whiled  away  the  time  till  supper,  which,  though 
bespoken  at  nine,  made  its  appearance  at  eight ;  for  in 
Spain  meals,  as  well  as  all  other  arrangements,  are  ruled 
more  by  a  sort  of  general  approximation  to  the  fitness  of 
things  than  by  any  precise  hours.  The  supper  comprised 
gazpachoy  and  salad,  and  eggs  fried  in  oil,  with  a  little  cold 
chicken  and  ham  to  eke  out.  We  then  returned  to  our 
blazing  fire-side,  which  flared  with  a  brilliant  white  flame, 
some  borruja  (the  oily  offal  of  the  olive-press)  having  been 
thrown  on  the  embers. 

Here  we  smoked  and  talked,  and  were  shortly  joined  by 
Madruga,  who  seated  himself  also  by  the  fire,  and  discoursed 
in  a  somewhat  sententious  and  confidential  manner  concern- 
ing the  interests  of  the  hacienda^  the  price  of  oil,  &c.  The 
marques  from  time  to  time  supplied  him  with  cigarillos 
from  a  special  parcel  which  he  brought  on  purpose  for  his 
people.  It  was  an  edifying  sight  to  see  the  solemn  and 
deliberate  manner  in  which  he  lighted  them.  In  a  pause 
of  his  talk,  he  would  take  a  wooden  ember  in  the  tongs, 
and,  holding  it  several  minutes  in  suspense,  he  would  pro- 
ceed to  dilate  on  matters  of  state  ;  then,  in  another  pause, 
he  would  blow  the  cinder  to  keep  it  alight,  and  after  a  while 

'  Literally  "Go  !"  an  interjection  which,  according  to  the 
tone,  expresses  encouragement  or  reprobation.  "  Get  along  "  is 
perhaps  nearest  to  it  in  our  idiom. 

8i 


The   Mass 

apply  the  end  of  his  cigar,  drawing  a  succession  of  whifFs 
between  his  words,  which  (the  whifFs)  came  out  again  in 
long  streams  from  his  nostrils  ;  for  in  this  country  the 
fumes  of  the  cigarillo  are  breathed  down  into  the  bottom  of 
the  lungs,  and  come  out  in  volumes  unknown  to  the  short 
mouthful-puff  of  cigar  and  pipe-smoking  nations. 

At  about  half-past  nine  we  went  to  bed.  The  cura  and 
Madruga  attended  our  couchie^  smoking  and  talking,  and 
assisting  us  in  undressing  ;  after  which  they  took  away  the 
lamp,  and  departed  with  a  good  night  from  the  capataz  and 
the  curas  blessing. 

On  Sunday  morning,  at  a  quarter  to  seven,  the  cura  and 
capataT.  made  their  appearance,  and  woke  us  up  to  hear 
mass.  I  jumped  out  of  bed,  and,  to  the  great  astonishment 
of  the  company,  washed  myself  in  cold  water.  The  old  cura^ 
I  believe,  at  first  thought  I  had  been  seized  with  a  sudden 
madness,  and  declared  that  such  a  process,  he  was  certain, 
would  kill  him  on  the  spot ;  by  which  statement  it  plainly 
appeared  that  he  had  never  tried  it. 

We  dressed,  and  wrapping  ourselves  in  our  capas^  entered 
a  gallery  of  the  chapel  opposite  the  altar,  where  the  cura^ 
attired  in  his  robes,  was  already  officiating,  the  people  being 
gathered  under  the  gallery.  The  gamekeeper  officiated  as 
sacristano.  The  altar  was  profusely  decorated  with  paint  and 
gilding,  and  possessed  two  very  handsome  wooden  statues  of 
the  Virgin — the  one  above,  about  two  feet  high  ;  the  other 
below,  the  size  of  life.  These  decorations  had  belonged  to 
a  private  chapel  of  the  marques's  family  in  one  of  the  con- 
vents at  Seville,  at  whose  dismantling  they  had  been 
removed  to  this  place.  The  chapel  itself  was  a  small  high 
room  at  the  end  of  a  cloister,  under  the  columns  of  the 
patio,  upon  which  it  opened  with  wide  folding  doors  ;  so 
that  when  these  were  flung  open,  the  cloister  became  the 

82 


The  Wolf-Dogs 


body  of  the  chapel,  where  all  the  labourers  collected.  The 
gallery  above  the  doors  we  entered  from  the  house.  After 
mass,  the  marques  and  cura  sat  by  the  fire  while  I  danced  a 
mixture  of  a  Highland  fling  and  hornpipe  up  and  down  the 
long  gallery,  to  warm  myself,  after  my  ablutions  and 
devotions. 

After  a  little  while  the  marques  retired  with  a  pan  of  hot 
water  to  make  his  toilette,  and  I  went  out  to  take  a  walk. 
The  men  were  all  loitering  about  the  court  smoking  and 
talking,  and  saluted  me  with  a  "  Fay  a  Vmd.  con  Dm  "  (may 
your  worship  go  with  God),  as  I  passed  the  portal  arch.  I 
turned  to  the  right,  and  set  off  to  make  the  circuit  of  the 
fortifications.  A  wall  about  fifteen  feet  high  and  about  half 
a  mile  in  length  inclosed  the  whole  house,  with  its  courts 
and  gardens,  in  an  irregular  figure,  something  like  a 
pentagon.  I  had  not  got  above  halfway  round,  when  I 
was  assailed  by  a  great  dog,  about  two  feet  and  a  half  high, 
long  and  broad  in  proportion,  and  a  very  formidable  and 
fierce  opponent  to  my  further  passage  in  that  direction. 

I  was  ashamed  to  turn  back,  though  there  was  nobody 
looking  on,  the  great  stimulus  of  faltering  fortitude,  without 
which,  as  Sancho  well  says,  "  Pues  no  haya  quien  nos  vea, 
menos  habra  quien  nos  note  de  cobardes."  ^  I  therefore 
wrapped  my  left  arm  in  my  cloak,  and  picked  up  a  large 
round  stone,  with  which  to  fortify  my  knuckles  in  case  of 
an  actual  encounter,  and  proceeded  slowly,  facing  my 
antagonist,  who  kept  growling  lustily,  and  snarling  at  me 
with  ravenous  teeth. 

Having  gone  some  way  in  the  company  of  the  enemy, 
who  kept  making  unpleasant  little  rushes  at  me, — coming 
within  a  few  feet,  and  then  springing  on  one  side,  as  if  not 

'  "  Since  none  see  us,  fewer  will  remark  our  cowardice." — Don 
Quixote. 

83  F 


Miga  Fare 


liking  to  lay  hold  of  me  while  I  showed  fight, — I  heard 
another  burst  of  barking  a  little  way  ofiF,  and  perceived  a 
second  dog  of  the  same  dimensions,  and  apparently  of  the 
same  political  opinions.  I  now  thought  I  was  in  for  it,  and 
began  to  wonder  how  it  would  feel  to  be  worried  by  these 
two  wolf-dogs ;  and  remembered  the  death  of  a  badger 
under  similar  circumstances,  at  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I 
was  once  present.  But  when  things  are  at  their  worst,  the 
remedy  often  arises  in  the  midst ;  and  I  perceived  that  the 
other  dog  was  chained  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
some  clothes,  and  implements,  and  victuals  belonging  to 
the  labourers,  who  had  left  them  to  attend  mass.  It  imme- 
diately occurred  to  me  that  this  was  the  object  which  the 
loose  dog  wished  to  deter  me  from  approaching.  I  there- 
fore jumped  over  a  little  stream  and  made  a  slight  detour  to 
the  left,  conceiving  that  a  compromise  under  the  circum- 
stances was  not  dishonourable  ;  for,  as  Sancho  says  again, 
"  Retirarse  no  es  huir,  ni  el  esperar  cordura,  quando  el 
peligro  sobrepuja  a  la  esperanza."  ^ 

On  my  return  we  breakfasted.  Eggs  fried  in  oil — Miga 
(bread-crumbs  steeped  in  water  and  sprinkled  with  salt, 
with  hot  oil  poured  over  it,  in  which  a  little  bit  of  garlic  has 
been  boiled).     This  is  eaten  with  chocolate,  and  is  not  bad. 

The  English  have  a  strange  unfounded  prejudice  against 
oil,  and  in  favour  of  butter,  which  is  as  near  as  possible  the 
same  thing,  only  that  oil  is  a  clean,  pure,  vegetable  fat, 
which  keeps  better,  and  is  infinitely  easier  to  have  good 
than  butter  ;  while  butter  is  the  result  of  a  greasy  animal 
secretion,  milked  out  of  unpleasant  udders  by  a  dirty-fisted 
wench.  Butter  is  not  good  after  three  days'  keeping  ;  and 
accordingly,  is  much  oftener  eaten  bad  than  good.     Never- 

'  "  To  retreat  is  not  to  fly,  nor  to  wait  wisdom,  when  the  peril 
is  greater  than  the  prize." — Bon  Quixote. 

84 


Oil  V.   Butter 

theless  good  butter  is  a  good  thing  ;  and  we  eat  it,  because 
we  know  it  to  be  so,  in  spite  of  all  the  disagreeable  ideas 
which  are  connected  with  its  origin.  But  of  oil,  from 
unfamiliarity,  we  have  an  abhorrence.  Our  first  acquaint- 
ance with  it  in  childhood  is  through  that  unencouraging 
sample  called  after  the  elder  of  the  constellated  twins  ;  our 
next  is  in  the  smell  of  the  lamp.  When  subsequently  we  see 
oil  in  a  salad,  it  shocks  our  prejudices.  On  tasting  it  with 
a  candid  determination,  we  find  it  good  ;  but  still  there  are 
few  Englishmen  who,  in  tasting  a  sample  of  oil,  would 
swallow  a  spoonful,  which  a  Spaniard  would  do  as  uncon- 
cernedly as  we  should  a  spoonful  of  cream.  I  have  the 
national  horror  of  oil,  but  I  cannot  say  that,  on  honest 
experiment,  I  find  that  in  good  cookery  it  is  a  bit  worse 
than  the  best  butter  ;  and  in  some  cases  it  is  better. 

After  breakfast,  I  drew  a  likeness  of  the  cura.  We  then 
went  out  to  see  the  labourers  at  work,  for  it  was  past 
twelve.  I  took  my  pistol,  and  discharged  its  six  barrels  in 
succession  at  the  trunk  of  an  old  olive-tree.  The  cura^  as 
well  as  the  olive-tree,  was  much  struck,  and  the  people 
astonished.  The  labourers  were  finishing  their  dinners,  and 
I  took  a  sketch  of  the  group,  which  was  very  picturesque, 
being  composed  of  men,  women,  and  children,  in  very  hete- 
rogeneous attire  and  attitudes.  After  this  I  took  another 
sketch  of  the  donkeys,  with  their  great  ester-a  (matting) 
panniers  on  their  backs,  resting  under  the  trees,  waiting  to 
carry  away  the  fruit.  The  sun  was  very  pleasant,  and 
having  finished  my  sketches,  I  spread  my  cloak,  and  lying 
upon  it,  with  my  head  on  a  pannier,  and  a  cigarillo  in  my 
mouth,  I  went  to  sleep,  and  did  not  wake  till  three  o'clock. 
The  marques,  who  woke  up  about  the  same  time,  proposed 
that  we  should  return  to  the  hacienda  mounted  on  the 
donkeys,  which  we  accordingly  did. 

85 


Gazpacho  and  Portrait 

We  sat  a  little  while  in  the  olive-mill,  on  which  the  sun 
was  shining,  while  the  thin  melancholy  mule,  with  matting 
blinders,  walked  his  dreary  round.  I  here  made  another 
sketch  of  the  premises  and  machinery  ;  and  Ramoncillo,  the 
gamekeeper,  who  had  seen  me  draw  his  father,  the  capataz^ 
requested  me  to  draw  one  of  the  millers,  a  very  grim  per- 
sonage in  a  scarlet  cap,  something  like  those  of  Catalonia. 
I  told  Ramoncillo  himself  to  come  upstairs  to  be  drawn  after 
dinner,  for  he  was  too  picturesque  a  vagabond  to  be  left 
out  of  my  sketch-book. 

After  dinner,  he  accordingly  presented  himself;  and  as 
his  mother  had  just  summoned  me  to  witness  the  confection 
oi  gazpacho^  I  compromised  the  matter  by  painting  in  the 
kitchen.  As  to  the  gazpacho^  it  is  made  by  breaking  up 
a  tomato,  a  pimento,  and  a  little  bit  of  garlic,  about  as  big 
as  half  of  a  split  kidney-bean.  This  is  done  in  a  strong 
pot  with  a  wooden  pestle.  About  three  table-spoonfuls  of 
oil,  four  or  five  of  vinegar,  and  a  dozen  of  water,  mixed  with 
the  vegetable  pulp,  form  the  sauce,  in  which  a  mass  of 
bread-crumbs  are  steeped,  which  being  accomplished,  the 
compound  is  gazpacho. 

While  this  operation  was  going  on,  I  set  up  Ramoncillo 
in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen,  leaning  on  his  musket,  and  drew 
and  painted  him.  The  old  lady  would  now  call  my  attention 
to  some  fresh  ingredient  in  the  mortar,  and  then  come  and 
exclaim  over  the  growing  likeness. 

"  They  were  his  very  eyes  !  "  (The  portrait  squinted  it 
possible  more  horribly  than  the  original.)  "And  only  see 
how  the  breeches  are  exactly  of  the  same  colour."  They 
were  of  a  sky-blue.  But  what  most  delighted  her,  and  the 
other  relatives  of  the  victim  who  gathered  round  his  execu- 
tion, was,  that  I  did  not  omit  even  the  little  jet  brooch 
which  he  wore  in  his   shirt-front.     The  representation  of 


A  Cup  of  Tea 


this  remarkable  object  by  an  oblong  spot  of  black  paint  was 
considered  a  master-stroke  of  art. 

When  I  had  done,  there  were  murmurs  of  applause, 
mingled  with  eager  whisperings,  which  I  guessed  were  to 
the  point  of  whether  I  could  be  persuaded  to  leave  this 
portrait  with  his  family  ;  and  sure  enough  in  the  evening, 
after  supper,  the  cura  opened  this  delicate  question  with 
much  diplomatic  skill,  and  I  finally  had  to  cut  him  out  of 
my  book.  After  a  short  visit  to  the  olive  harvest,  we 
returned  and  sat  by  our  blazing  chimney,  to  which  resorted 
the  patriarch  Madruga,  several  of  his  sons,  and  a  few  of  the 
labourers.  These  last  were  not  accommodated  with  chairs, 
but  squatted  round  the  hearth  on  their  hams,  and  were 
supplied  with  cigars  occasionally  from  the  marques's  special 
paper.  Madruga^  which,  in  Spanish,  means  the  dawn,  is 
not  the  patronymic  of  the  capataz^  though  he  is  invariably 
called  by  it.  It  is  an  honourable  sobriquet  which  he  had 
acquired  in  his  youth  by  habits  of  early  rising.  The  marques 
made  some  strong  aniseed-brandy  (^aguardiente)  punch,  and 
regaled  the  company. 

After  the  tag-rag  of  the  party  had  retired,  the  marques 
made  some  very  strong  tea,  which,  with  slices  of  bread  and 
butter,  was  our  supper.  Old  Madruga  and  his  wife  looked 
on  at  this  un-Spanish  meal  as  the  simple  inhabitants  of 
some  farm-house  in  Yorkshire  might  do,  if  a  travelled  son 
of  the  landlord  were  to  make  a  bowl  of  gazpacho  for  his 
shooting-luncheon.  When  we  had  done,  the  remains  of  the 
pot  were  administered  to  them,  and  they  drank  it,  for  the 
honour  of  the  thing,  with  some  wry  faces.  The  cura  enter- 
tained us  after  tea  with  passages  from  his  life :  he  had  been 
a  soldier  up  to  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  and  had  broken  some 
of  his  limbs  in  amateur  bull-fighting.  Next  day  we 
returned  to  Seville, 

87 


CHAPTER  IX  I 

Seville,  Jan.  9,  1852. 
The  enchanted  city  still  encircles  me  with  her  Moorish 
girdle  of  battlements  and  towers.  The  winter  continues  to 
be  as  sultry  as  usual,  and  the  roses  by  the  banks  of  Guadal- 
quivir bloom  unwashed  save  by  the  dews  and  the  Infanta's 
gardeners.  Often  in  my  early  morning  walk,  I  see  young 
men,  in  the  gay  costume  of  the  Andalusians,  scale  the  little 
palisade  defences,  and  with  the  hasty  hand  of  stealth  pluck 
a  flower  or  two,  eluding  the  truly  Spanish  vigilance  of  the 
horticultural  staff,  to  say  nothing  of  the  military  point  of 
honour  (bayonet,  of  course)  which  guards  the  palace  portal 
just  over  the  way.  I  see  these  depredations  and  sigh,  not 
for  the  national  disregard  of  royal  property,  but  because  I 
know  the  happy  pilferer  will  soon  see  his  fragrant  spoil 
twined  in  the  raven  tresses  of  his  dark-eyed  Andaluza. 

Talking  about  dark  eyes,  there  are  some  very  dangerous 
lightnings  shot  from  the  dusk  of  the  cloudy  mantilla  (if  the 
semi-transparent  black  blonde  which  deeply  borders  it  may 
poetically  license  that  shiny  silk  piece  of  attire  to  be  called 
cloudy,  but  you  see  my  clouds  were  necessary  for  my  light- 
ning), and  I  have  been  much  struck  many  times. 

'  The  remainder  of  the  volume  is  chiefly  extracted  from  letters. 
The  indulgent  reader,  bearing  this  in  mind,  will  perhaps  be  more 
ready  to  pardon  what  might  seem  an  undue  familiarity  of  style, 
if  addressed  directly  to  the  public. 


Spirit  of  Adventure 

Harry  has  written  that  he  is  coming  out  by  the  steamer 
of  the  27th  to  console  me  in  my  exile.  In  any  case,  it 
would  be  a  very  kind  deed  to  go  such  a  distance  to  console 
a  cheerful  invalid  (who  has  next  to  nothing  the  matter  with 
him),  even  if  he  were  not  otherwise  than  in  the  mind  to 
travel,  for  a  start  of  fifteen  hundred  miles  alone  is  not  a 
light  undertaking;  but  in  his  case,  wearied  as  he  is  with 
that  dreadful  expedition  over  the  western  deserts,  whose 
hardships  have  made  him  chng  the  more  to  happy  England, 
it  is  an  act  of  self-sacrificing  friendship  to  exchange  the 
peace  and  quiet,  and  comfortable  Hving  of  home,  for  the 
stringy  alias  and  ravenous  fleas  of  Spanish  travel. 

It  is  my  custom  to  take  a  walk  during  the  hour  or  two 
before  sunset  ;  and  one  afternoon,  having  crossed  Guadal- 
quivir by  the  bridge  of  boats  connecting  Seville  with  Triana, 
I  passed  through  that  suburb  of  gipsies,  and  the  orange- 
groves  which  line  the  road  beyond,  and  coming  out  upon 
the  open  country,  continued  my  walk  about  half  across  the 
plain  lying  between  the  river  and  the  western  range  of  hills. 

It  is  true  that  this  plain  is  not  more  than  a  league  in 
width  ;  but  I  knew  that  if  I  crossed  it  I  should  want  to 
ascend  the  hill,  in  order  to  look  down  upon  the  beautiful 
city,  lit  with  the  slanting  rays  of  sunset.  Now,  if  I  got  to 
the  top  of  the  hill  within  the  sunset  hour,  I  should  have  to 
come  back  about  five  miles  to  Seville,  in  the  dark.  I  thought 
of  going  on,  and  taking  my  chance  where  I  slept  and  what 
became  of  me,  and  the  spirit  of  adventure  seized  me  there 
and  then. 

But  I  reflected,  that  in  making  an  expedition  of  that  sort 
it  would  be  better  to  set  out  prepared  with  a  little  money 
for  support,  my  six-barrelled  revolver  for  defence,  and  a 
more  Iberian  cast  of  get-up  ;  for  as  I  then  stood,  or  rather 
sat,  on  the  parapet  of  a  little  bridge,  my  costume  was  such 

89 


My  Disguise 


as  London  might  have  looked  upon  without  either  admira- 
tion or  astonishment. 

Next  morning  after  breakfast  I  loaded  my  revolver,  and 
went  out  to  purchase  my  outfit.  This  consisted  of  half  a 
dozen  filigree  buttons  and  a  faja.  The  faja  is  a  scarf, 
usually  of  a  scarlet  woollen  stuflF,  something  like  close 
thick-wove  bunting,  about  a  foot  wide,  and  varying  from 
three  and  a  half  to  seven  yards  in  length.  This  is  wrapped 
round  and  round  the  waist,  and  at  last  tucked  in  beneath 
the  folds  over  one  of  the  hips,  with  the  fringed  end  hanging 
out  a  little.  It  is  a  comfortable  thing,  giving  both  warmth 
and  support  to  the  body.  An  Andalusian  can  no  more  do 
without  h.\s  faja  than  a  lady  could  cast  her  stays. 

I  returned  to  my  lodging  and  dressed.  A  pair  of  black 
trousers  and  a  black  waistcoat  (with  the  filigree  buttons) 
were  divided  by  my  scarlet  faja  gaily  striped  with  yellow 
and  blue,  and  purple  and  green.  I  wore,  besides,  a  seedy 
old  black  shooting-jacket,  and  a  brown  Scotch  plaid,  with  a 
red  stripe  in  it,  slung  over  my  shoulder,  to  look  as  much 
like  a  manta  as  possible  ;  and  on  my  head  a  gigantic  wide- 
awake, such  as  the  peasants  wear  in  lower  Brittany,  where 
I  got  it  last  summer.  It  is  a  good  hat  for  a  hot  climate, 
being  very  thick,  and  having  a  rim  about  nine  inches 
wide. 

Thus  attired  in  the  costume  of  a  nondescript  vagabond,  I 
stuck  my  revolver  well  out  of  sight  in  the  folds  of  my  faja y 
and  sallied  forth.  I  was  in  great  fear  lest  I  should  meet 
some  of  my  fashionable  Sevillian  acquaintance  in  this  guise, 
but  I  was  lucky  enough  to  clear  the  gate  of  Triana  without 
any  such  mischance.  It  reassured  me,  to  observe  that  the 
tag-rag-and-bobtail  who  lounge  about,  and  sell  and  buy  fish 
and  vegetables  on  the  bank  of  Guadalquivir,  and  who  are 
very  picturesque  and  irregular  in  their  own  attire,  stared  at 

90 


Pride  in   Rags 

me  less  now  than  they  were  accustomed  to  do  in  my  ordi- 
nary dress. 

I  felt  a  sort  of  independent  pride  in  being  thus  tacitly 
admitted  into  the  fraternity  of  vagabonds,  whose  privilege 
it  is  to  avoid  being  stared  at  and  begged  of. 

I  crossed  the  bridge  of  boats,  lifting  my  hat  devoutly  as 
I  passed  by  the  painted  wooden  shrine  of  San  Jose,  in  the 
middle  of  it.  On  reaching  the  main  street  of  Triana,  which 
runs  parallel  with  the  river,  I  turned  to  the  right,  intending 
to  skirt  the  banks,  and  go  up  to  Alcala  del  Rio  by  Santi 
Ponce  ;  but  getting  into  some  brick-fields  and  tileries,  I 
changed  my  mind,  and  cut  across  to  the  road  I  had  followed 
the  day  before,  resolving  to  ascend  the  hill. 

As  I  cleared  the  suburb,  advancing  across  the  plain,  and 
often  turning,  the  Giralda,  and  then  the  huge  body  of  the 
cathedral,  appeared  to  rise  higher  and  higher,  as  smaller 
surrounding  objects  were  dwarfed  by  distance.  Hereupon 
I  made  these  reflections  : — 

"In  a  city,  the  great  cathedral  attracts  our  attention, 
and  lifts  our  eyes  a  moment,  and  is  lost  as  we  turn  the 
corner  of  some  insignificant  little  street ;  but  as  we  depart 
from  the  city,  the  great  cathedral  becomes  more  and  more 
its  crowning  point — its  sole  feature. 

"So,  in  the  throng  and  bustle  of  life,  is  religion.  The 
greatness  of  God  and  the  beauty  of  holiness  may  strike 
our  imagination,  or  even  lift  our  heart  in  momentary 
adoration,  shut  out  of  view  too  soon  by  the  narrow  and 
crooked  mazes  of  the  world's  pleasures  and  cares. 

"  It  is  as  we  remove  from  the  world,  and  withdraw  our- 
selves from  its  cares  and  pleasures, — it  is  in  the  departure 
of  our  faculties,  and  the  hazy  distance  of  old  age,  that  the 
ONE  object  of  our  existence  here  towers  up  to  its  true 
proportions. 

91 


The   Distant  View 

"We  then  perceive,  perhaps  too  late,  how  much  more 
great,  and  excellent,  and  beautiful  that  was,  than  those 
paltry  intervening  things  which  screened  it  from  our  eyes 
so  long." 

Near  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  camino  real  turned  to  the 
left,  so  I  followed  a  bridle-road  which  ascended  it  more 
directly.  This  way,  which  deeply  scars  the  steep  hill-side 
with  several  channels,  seems  as  if  it  must  have  been  worn 
by  the  footsteps  of  many  ages,  and  was  probably  once  the 
principal  road  ;  but  it  is  now  almost  deserted,  the  great 
road,  which  slants  more  easily,  having  drawn  the  old  traffic 
away. 

From  the  brow  there  is  a  fine  view  o^  Seville  the  Mar- 
vellous, with  her  hundred  graceful  spires,  gathered,  as  in  a 
drawing-room  of  churches,  around  their  giant  and  majestic 
queen.  A  silvery  bend  or  two  of  the  river  gleamed,  folded 
on  the  purple  bosom  of  the  plain.  I  sat  down,  partly 
because  I  wanted  to  take  a  sketch,  and  partly  because  I  was 
out  of  breath  with  toiling  up  the  rise,  and  felt  a  slight  pain 
in  my  lungs.  However,  I  managed  to  draw  my  breath 
better  than  my  landscape.  But  the  pain  in  my  lungs  had 
reminded  me  I  was  mortal,  and  liable  to  accidents  ;  and, 
indeed,  when  one  is  alone,  and  far  away  from  help,  a  very 
slight  ailment  is  sufficient  to  act  upon  the  imagination. 
So,  before  proceeding  further,  in  order  to  be  prepared  for 
the  worst  that  could  happen,  I  wrote,  as  legibly  as  I  could, 
a  short  notice  in  the  fly-leaf  of  my  pocket-book,  setting 
forth,  in  a  proclamatory  style,  "  who  I  was,  and  what  was 
to  be  done  with  my  body,  in  case  it  should  be  found 
by  well-disposed  persons,  who  would  be  handsomely 
rewarded,"  &c. 

Proceeding  a  little  along  the  road,  I  came  to  a  small 
village,    where    I    inquired    my    way    to    Castilleja    de    la 

92 


Castilleja   de  la  Cuesta 

Cuesta  of  a  crusty  old  man,  who,  finding  I  came  from 
Seville,  scolded  me  severely  for  coming  so  much  out  of 
the  right  road,  as  if  it  was  anything  to  him.  What  dis- 
concerted me  more  than  the  snarling  of  the  old  man  was, 
that  all  the  dogs  barked  after  me  as  I  passed  through  the 
village,  indicating  that  there  was  something  peculiar  and 
suspicious  about  my  appearance. 

The  aloe-bordered  lane  into  which  I  had  turned  ran 
along  the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  after  about  half  a  league 
descended  into  Castilleja,  a  pretty  little  village  (where 
Fernando  Cortez  departed  this  life,  as  I  since  found  in 
the  guide-book,  which  I  should  have  done  better  to  study 
before  I  set  out),  in  a  hollow  of  the  cueita  (hill-side). 
Here  I  met  a  beggar,  and  asked  my  way  to  Santi  Ponce. 
Reflecting  that  I  should  not  have  inquired  of  such  a  person 
if  I  had  overtaken  instead  of  meeting  him,  I  amused  myself 
by  fashioning  the  reason  why  into  a  refrain : — 

No  preguntes  tu  camino 

De  mezquino — 
Que  quiza  has  de  tenerlo 

Companero. 

Never,  in  asking  your  way, 

Question  a  tatterdemalion. 
Who,  on  informing  you,  may 

Offer  to  be  your  companion. 

Turning  to  the  left  at  the  lower  end  of  the  village,  the 
path  slanted  across  abruptly-undulating  spurs  of  the  cuesta^ 
down  toward  the  plain  again  ;  and  descending  upon  Cama, 
the  tall  towers  of  Santi  Ponce's  convent  appeared  about 
four  miles  to  the  north.  I  had  heard  that  there  was  a  little 
village  about  half  a  mile  beyond  the  convent,  and  there  I 

93 


Santi   Ponce 

resolved  to  sleep.  As  I  stepped  along  briskly  (for  I  was 
beginning  to  feel  very  hungry  towards  my  usual  dinner- 
hour),  the  sun  gradually  descended  ;  the  shadow  of  the 
western  range  widened  across  the  plain,  and  rose  like  a 
deepening  flood  of  darkness,  leaving  only  the  church-towers 
and  atalayas  ^  illuminated  ;  and  by  the  time  I  reached  the 
village,  twilight  had  drawn  its  rapidly-deepening  film  over 
all  the  broad  valley  which  B^etis  waters. 

Santi  Ponce  is  a  poor-looking,  low-hutted  hamlet,  sprin- 
kled on  some  knoUy  undulations  of  the  plain.  Many  of 
the  small  houses  are  flat-roofed,  and  it  has  rather  the  look 
of  a  desolate  little  eastern  town,  than  of  a  European  village. 

I  had  to  go  right  through  it,  running  the  gauntlet  of 
women,  children,  and  dogs  in  great  numbers,  to  whom  I 
afforded  a  fertile  source  of  speculation,  remark,  and  rebark. 
At  length  I  reached  the  posada^  at  the  further  extremity 
of  the  place,  not  in  any  street,  but  facing  the  open  country. 
There  was  a  large  doorway  without  a  door,  inside  of  which 
the  vestibule  looked  very  much  like  a  waggon-shed.  Fur- 
ther in  appeared  a  long  narrow  room — if  room  it  could  be 
called,  the  walls  being  of  rough  unplastered  stone,  smoke- 
blackened,  like  those  of  a  forge,  and  the  window  without 
glass. 

This  receptacle,  such  as  it  was,  proved  to  be  the  kitchen 
of  the  establishment,  and  the  family  were  seated  at  supper 
round  a  table  at  the  further  end.  A  flaring  little  lamp  lit  up 
the  swarthy  faces  of  the  party,  making  their  dim  shadows 
waver  upon  the  walls.  Altogether  the  scene  was  more 
picturesque  than  comfortable. 

I  walked  up  to  the  table  and  saluted  them  with  "  Dios 

guard'    V°"^"-,    Caballeros "    (God    keep    you,    gentlemen), 

and  proceeded  to  make  inquiries  what  there  was  to  be  had 

'  Moorish  watch-towers. 

94 


Una  Limitada  Cena 

for  supper.  The  landlady,  to  whom  I  was  referred,  apathe- 
tically announced  that  there  was  nothing  whatever  in  the 
house  ;  but  the  rest  of  the  party  supping,  begged  me  to  be 
seated,  and  sup  with  them.  The  elements  before  them  were 
nothing  more  than  bread,  and  a  large  salad-bowl  with  some 
remains  of  lettuce  floating  in  much  vinegar  and  water,  dotted 
with  little  yellow  blebs  of  oil.  I  was  too  hungry  to  stand 
on  ceremony,  and  sat  down  at  once.  They  gave  me  a  great 
hunch  of  bread  and  a  wooden  spoon,  and  I  followed  the 
example  of  the  company,  dipping  in  the  dish  and  eating  the 
sopped  bread,  with  such  shreds  and  tatters  of  lettuce  as  I 
could  fish  up  with  my  spoon. 

When  all  the  verdura  (green  stuff)  was  finished,  the 
bowl  was  passed  round,  and  one  after  another  tilting  it  up, 
took  a  long  drink.  One  of  the  men,  as  he  put  it  down 
with  a  gasp,  remarked  that  it  was  a  capital  thing  to  refresh 
the  blood  [rifrescar  la  sangre). 

My  hunger  was  by  no  means  satisfied  ;  but  examining 
the  table  more  narrowly  after  the  party  had  risen,  all  except 
myself  and  the  mozo  de  la  cuadra  (ostler),  I  discovered  a 
small  plate  covered  over  with  an  inverted  saucer.  This 
concealed  treasure  was  a  fractional  reserve  of  olla^  set  aside 
for  the  supper  of  the  landlady's  little  girl,  as  I  discovered 
without  much  compunction  after  it  had  been  devoured  ;  for 
I  fell  upon  it  without  asking  questions,  though  it  smelt  and 
tasted  powerfully  of  garlic.  The  landlady  now  bethought 
herself  to  ask  me  if  I  would  have  a  jarro  (pitcher)  of  wine 
and  some  olives.  With  the  aid  of  these  accessories  and 
more  bread,  I  managed  at  last  to  replenish  the  vacuum 
which  a  long  walk  (about  twelve  miles)  had  caused  in  my 
vitals. 

The  jarro  held  more  than  I  could  drink,  so  I  shared  it 
with    the  mo%o^  a   polite,  hard-featured  man,  who  seemed 

95 


Bacalao 

above  his  station  in  point  of  intelligence.  He  spoke  French, 
and  said  he  had  been  exiled  for  his  political  opinions,  and 
had  lived  at  Bayonne. 

It  was  beginning  to  be  cold,  and  they  lighted  a  blazing 
fire  ;  not  in  any  fire-place,  but  on  the  mud  floor,  opposite 
the  window,  which  aperture  had  more  the  effect  of  blowing 
the  smoke  about  into  all  parts  of  the  kitchen  than  of  letting 
any  out.  Meanwhile  a  large  party  of  exceedingly  out- 
landish figures  in  %amarras  (fur  jackets),  and  sheepskin 
breeches,  and  red  stockings,  and  leggings  of  panm  pardo^ 
had  arrived,  and  were  busy  about  preparing  their  supper. 

They  produced  a  certain  number  of  what,  by  the  uncer- 
tain firelight,  seemed  to  be  triangular  pieces  of  thin  board. 
These  they  stuffed  into  the  flame,  and  held  them  there 
a  little  while  ;  then  taking  them  out,  and  bending  and 
breaking  them  up,  I  discovered  that  they  were  dried  fish, 
which  they  were  singeing  thus  to  soften  previous  to  stew- 
ing. I  asked  what  it  was  called,  and  being  told  that  it  was 
bacalao^  rejoiced  greatly  that  I  had  at  least  seen  what  Don 
Quixote  supped  upon  in  the  venta^  the  first  night  of  his 
Primer  a  Salida  (first  sally). 

These  men  told  me  they  were  come  with  several  carros 
(waggons)  of  wool  from  Estremadura,  and,  hearing  I  was 
an  Englishman,  concluded  I  was  going  to  the  copper-mines 
at  Rio  Tinto.  They  admired  my  manta^  and  asked  where 
it  was  made,  and  what  it  cost. 

I  asked  if  I  could  have  a  cup  of  chocolate  before  I  went 
to  bed.  The  ynovco  went  out  and  bought  a  cake,  and  the 
posadera  made  it  in  a  copper  pot,  stirring  it  with  a  stick 
stuck  into  a  nicked  wooden  wheel  at  the  bottom,  which  she 
trundled, — rolling  the  protruding  handle  between  the  palms 
of  her  hands.  The  chocolate  was  good,  but  as  to  going  to 
bed,  that  was  not  feasible,  for  there  was  none. 

96 


The   Straw-Loft 

The  unusualness  of  the  requirement  appeared  from  the 
fact,  that  by  this  time  the  greater  part  of  the  wool-carriers 
were  strewn  about  here  and  there  on  the  mud  floor  of  the 
windy  vestibule  ;  some  of  them  without  even  a  manta  to  lie 
upon.  I  did  not  feel  that  this  would  exactly  suit  me,  and 
began  to  make  inquiries  about  the  straw-loft.  "  Oh  yes, 
there  was  ?ipajdr^ — would  his  worship  like  to  inspect  it  ?" 
A  ladder  was  brought,  and  set  up  against  a  wall  in  the 
stable-yard,  up  which  went  the  polite  mozo  with  his  flaring 
lamp,  and  I  followed. 

A  straw-loft  does  not  sound  an  uncomfortable  place  to 
sleep  in  ;  and  if  you  have  long  straw,  you  cannot  be  better 
off :  but  the  straw  here  was  short,  that  is  to  say,  cut  into 
bits  about  half  an  inch  long,  to  mix  with  barley,  and  my 
prospect  for  the  night's  accommodation  looked  more  like  a 
great  heap  of  loose  chaflf  than  anything  else.  The  ostler 
remarked  that  it  was  "  una  condicion  muy  suelta  para 
acostar "  (very  loose  stuff  to  lie  among),  but,  if  I  liked  to 
sleep  here,  he  would  get  a  couple  of  sacks  to  lay  over  it. 
The  slightest  touch  loosened  and  sent  rustling  down  an 
avalanche  from  the  crumbling  heap.  We  strewed  a  plain 
below,  and  spread  the  two  broad  sacks.  I  drew  my  plaid 
over  me,  the  mo%o  bid  me  sleep  well,  and,  taking  away  the 
lamp,  left  me  to  my  reflections. 

The  pajar  had  a  doorway  but  no  door,  and  the  aperture 
afforded  plenty  of  fresh  air  and  a  favourable  view  of  the 
constellation  Cassiopeia.  I  was,  nevertheless,  quite  warm 
enough,  and  should  have  been  in  perfect  tranquillity  but  for 
the  fear  of  chopped  straw  falling  into  my  eyes,  nose,  and 
mouth,  if  I  stirred  otherwise  than  very  gingerly.  Still,  to 
set  off  against  this  drawback,  there  certainly  was  some 
romance  in  sleeping  in  a  real  straw-loft,  a  dream  of  adven- 
ture I  had  never  put  in  act  before. 

97 


Theory  of  Romance 

Indeed,  when  I  contrast  my  English  experience  of  hos- 
telries, — when  I  call  to  mind  those  civilised  abominations, 
the  tap,  the  coffee-room,  tea  and  muffins,  and  mutton  chops  ; 
wound  up  by  a  simpering  chambermaid,  a  carpeted  stair- 
case, a  japan  candlestick,  and  a  chintz  four-poster, — I  cannot 
but  remark  a  very  striking  difference  between  this  picture 
and  that. 

And  in  what  does  the  romantic  consist,  but  in  unfami- 
liarity  ?  It  would  be  as  much  a  romance  to  the  beggar  to 
be  clothed  in  fine  linen,  and  treated,  by  some  mistake,  as  a 
great  lord,  as  for  the  great  lord  to  dress  himself  in  rags, 
and  try  the  life  of  a  beggar  by  way  of  a  change.  The  only 
difference  is,  that  one  changes  for  the  better,  the  other  for 
the  worse.  The  advantage  in  point  of  romance  is  clearly 
all  on  the  side  of  the  beggar. 

This  is  the  reason  why  heroes  of  romance  are  usually 
born  under  strong  suspicion  of  illegitimacy,  begin  as  vaga- 
bonds, and  turn  out  peers  of  the  realm  in  the  third  volume. 
This  accounts  for  the  delight  snobs  take  in  writing,  and  the 
populace  in  reading,  dark  and  mysterious  romances  of 
fashionable  life,  which  fashionable  livers,  according  to  their 
(wax)  lights,  find  neither  dark  nor  mysterious  at  all. 

Having  been  delivered  of  these  reflections  in  the  straw, 
I  was  falling  gradually  into  that  drowsy  twilight  of  reason 
which  intervenes  between  the  setting  of  the  mind's  eye  and 
the  star-spangled  darkness  of  dreams,  when  a  vivacious  discus- 
sion was  opened  in  the  court  below,  in  which  the  word  paja 
(straw)  frequently  recurred:  pending  which  I  fell  asleep, 
with  my  revolver  under  my  hand,  ready  for  defence  in  case 
of  danger. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  had  been  asleep,  when  I  was 
suddenly  startled  by  the  bump  of  a  ladder  against  the  wall ; 
and,  opening  my  eyes,  saw  the  constellation  of  Cassiopeia 

98 


Visions  not   Unratified 

darkened  by  the  figure  of  a  man.  I  sat  up  with  my  pistol 
ready,  but  he  passed  by  me,  and,  filling  a  large  estera  (mat- 
ting) basket  with  straw,  departed  as  he  came.  He  had 
doubtless  been  the  applicant  for  straw,  whom  the  friendly 
mozo  had  attempted  to  persuade  not  to  disturb  me,  but  who 
had  now  found  the  ladder,  and  come  to  right  himself  against 
such  oppression. 

Falling  asleep  again,  I  dreamed  I  had  been  out  on  some 
wild  expedition  in  England,  and  had  been  brought  back 
quite  helpless  on  a  shutter  ;  that  I  had  been  put  to  bed,  and 
indeed  the  nurse  was  tucking  me  up,  when,  in  stooping  to 
arrange  the  pillow,  her  sleeves  tickled  my  nose,  on  which  I 
woke,  and  rubbing  my  nose,  frightened  away  a  rat  who  had 
been  snuffing  round  my  face,  probably  suggesting  the  idea 
of  being  tucked  in.  He  scampered  away,  making  a  great 
rustling  among  the  loose  straw,  and  I  perceived  the  dark- 
ness was  growing  pale,  and  that  it  wanted  not  above  an 
hour  of  sunrise.  So  I  did  not  go  to  sleep  again,  and  when 
it  was  light  enough  to  see,  got  up  and  shook  myself. 

I  paid  a  peseta  (about  lO^d.)  for  my  supper  and  night's 
lodging.  After  about  half  a  mile  of  road,  I  saw  on  the  left 
of  the  road  some  stony  excrescences  among  the  olive-trees, 
towards  which  I  turned  up  a  slope  of  barley-field.  The 
irregular  masses  of  grouting  proved,  as  I  approached,  to  be 
undermined  and  perforated  by  arched  cellars  and  passages. 
Scrambling  in  among  these  ruins  of  Italica,  I  found,  at 
length,  the  amphitheatre,  which  is  oval,  and  not  near  so 
large  as  a  modern  bull-ring. 

On  the  side  by  which  I  entered,  there  were  remains  of  a 
broad  passage,  vaulted  with  a  semicircular  arch,  which  had 
once  surrounded  the  amphitheatre,  into  which  there  were 
entrances  from  it  very  much  like  those  of  a  p/aza  de  toros. 
Here,  no   doubt,  the  Roman  youth  of  the  period  loitered 

99  G 


Ruins  of  Italica 

between  the  acts  and  smoked  their  c'lgarillos  (or  did  what- 
ever in  those  days  corresponded  with  this  modern  delasse- 
Tnent\  while  the  last  wounded  gladiator  was  dying  behind 
the  scenes,  and  made  their  bets  while  the  next  pair  were 
buckling  on  their  armour.  The  broken  terraces  of  stone 
seats  remain,  but  the  grass  grows  green,  for  the  benefit  of  a 
few  scrambling  goats,  in  the  arena. 

It  is  natural  to  fill  up  the  blank  gap  which  time  has  made 
with  imagination's  reproduction  of  the  gaiety,  eagerness, 
and  agony  of  victims  who  bled,  and  crowds  who  shouted, 
where  now  reign  the  silence,  and  solitude,  and  ruin  ot  near 
two  thousand  years.  But  what  prevented  my  indulging 
very  long  in  these  musings  on  the  past  was,  that  I  began  to 
be  very  hungry  for  my  breakfast  ;  so  scrambling  out  of  the 
city  founded  by  Scipio,  and  the  birth-place  of  Trajan,  I 
returned  to  the  road,  and,  following  it  still  to  the  north- 
ward, came  before  long  to  a  small  venta^  with  a  broad  shed 
of  thatch,  supported  on  posts  in  front  of  it. 

Here  I  found  a  woman  sitting  over  an  earthenware  copa 
of  charcoal,  and  asked  for  breakfast.  She  set  bread  and 
wine,  and  a  great  pie-dish  full  of  large  salted  sardines,  before 
me.  Cold  fish  is  a  favourite  food  of  the  poor  people  here, 
and  with  excellent  bread  (which  you  get  everywhere  in 
Spain  I  believe,  but  especially  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Seville),  a  few  olives,  and  a  jar  of  decent  manzanilla,  my 
cold  sardines  were  by  no  means  a  contemptible  breakfast, 
for  which  I  paid  five-pence. 

While  I  was  eating,  a  soldier  came  in,  and  I  had  a  sort 
of  vague  impression  that  this  road-guard  would  find  me  in 
the  wrong  some  way,  and  take  me  up.  He  turned  out  a 
good-humoured  fellow,  coming,  not  on  a  domiciliary  visit,  but 
with  the  same  object  as  myself, — to  get  his  breakfast.  He 
and  the  landlady  had  a  considerable  gossip,  of  which  I,  being 

100 


Pious  Salutations 

a  novelty,  formed  the  staple  subject.  You  will  perhaps 
be  surprised  at  the  venteras  taste,  but  I  can  assure  you  I 
overheard  her  remark  that  I  was  a  very  pretty  youth,  "  y 
que  rubios  tiene  los  cabellos  "  (and  what  nice  red  hair  and 
beard).  Now,  though  I  was  obliged  to  her  for  the  compli- 
ment of  thinking  me  a  pretty  youth,  I  don't  so  much 
appreciate  having  my  hair  called  red.  As  to  my  beard,  I 
have  been  accustomed  to  consider  it  of  a  somewhat  ferrugi- 
nous straw-colour  ;  but  my  hair  is  brown,  and  has  never 
been  called  red  by  my  bitterest  enemies. 

The  soldier,  before  I  went  away,  civilly  insinuated  that  he 
should  like  to  see  my  passport,  and  was  highly  delighted 
and  edified  by  the  engraving  of  the  arms  of  England,  and 
those  of  Lord  Palmerston.  "  For  the  writing,  he  could 
read  the  letters,"  he  said,  "but  as  to  the  words,  being 
written  in  English,  they  were  far  from  being  perspicuous  : 
and,  indeed,  he  had  been  informed  that  there  was  no  lan- 
guage in  the  world  so  clear  and  intelligible  as  the  Castilian  ;  " 
to  which  the  ventera^  as  if  she  was  assenting  to  an  ingenious 
philological  theory,  replied,  "  Mas  claro  "  (doubtless).  They 
settled  also,  between  them,  that  I  was,  without  doubt,  a 
pottery-man  from  the  English  porcelain  manufactory  in  the 
Cartuja  convent. 

I  now  bid  the  ventera  and  militar  "  quedar  se  con  Dios  " 
(remain  with  God),  and  they  bid  me  go  under  His  protection. 
These  pious  salutations  and  farewells  are  in  everybody's 
mouth.  If  two  men  meet  on  the  road,  each  says  in  passing, 
"Vaya  V°"*-  con  Dios"  (may  your  worship  go  with  God). 
If  you  pass  a  man  standing  by  the  side  of  the  road,  you 
cry,  "  Dios  guard'  V™**- "  (God  keep  your  worship).  The 
same  salutation  is  good  on  entering  a  posada^  only  you  put 
their  worships  in  the  plural  (V^^^^).  They  reply,  "Venga 
V™"*  con  Dios  "  (may  your  worship  come  with  God).     And 

lOI 


A  Judgment  upon  Parsimony 

when  you  depart,  your  farewell  is,  "  Queden  V""*®^-  con 
Dios."i 

Soon  after  leaving  the  ventOy  I  turned  off  the  main  road 
along  a  bridle-way  slanting  to  the  right,  and  leading  to  a 
village  with  a  white  tower.  The  path  was  crossed  by  a 
stream  six  or  seven  yards  wide  and  a  foot  deep.  A  peasant 
appeared  unforeseenly,  and  offered  to  carry  me  across  for  a 
halfpenny  ;  but  I  thought  it  would  be  derogatory  to  my 
vagabond  character  to  accept  his  services  ;  so,  taking  off  my 
shoes  and  stockings,  and  doubling  up  my  trousers,  I  waded 
in.  About  the  middle  I  found  it  rather  deeper  than  I  had 
calculated,  and  in  twitching  up  a  corner  of  my  plaid,  which 
was  trailing  in  the  water,  one  of  my  shoes  dropped,  and  was 
floating  away  in  the  ripples,  when,  making  a  dash  for  it,  I 
lost  one  of  my  socks,  and  gained  the  further  bank  only  one 
dry  foot  better  that  if  I  had  walked  through.  The  peasant 
whose  services  I  had  rejected  grinned  over  my  misfortunes 
as  a  judgment  upon  my  parsimony. 

I  shook  the  water  out  of  my  shoe,  and  wrung  the  sock  as 
dry  as  I  could,  and  sat  down  on  a  sunny  bank  scruffling  my 
feet  in  the  warm  sand  ;  for  dry  sand  will  soak  up  water  as  it 
does  ink,  and  supply  the  place  of  a  towel  as  well  as  blotting- 
paper.  By  the  time  I  had  made  and  smoked  a  cigarillo^ 
the  powerful  sun  of  January  had  dried  the  sock  to  a  wear- 
able state,  and  I  proceeded  to  the  village  of  the  white  watch- 
tower,  whose  name  is  Algaba,  which,  passing  without  adven- 
ture, I  came  after  a  while  to  the  banks  of  Guadalquivir. 

It  now  became  matter  of  debate  whether  I  should  ascend 
the  river  to  Alcala  (which  was  now  in  sight,  but  much 
further  off  than  it  looked,  because  of  an  awkward  bend  of 
the  river,  unless  I  could  find  means  of  crossing  it  in  two 

'  Vmd.  and  Vmdes.  are  contractions  of  Vtiesa  Merced  (your  wor- 
ship), and  its  plural, — pronounced  Uste  and  Ustedes. 

102 


The  Ayes  and  Noes 

places),  or  descend  it  to  Seville.  I  was  beginning  to  be 
footsore,  and  felt  dusty  and  unclean.  On  the  one  hand  was 
the  desire  of  adventures  ;  on  the  other,  the  desire  of  washing, 
clean  linen,  and  rest  for  the  soles  of  my  feet.  Alcala  del 
Rio,  crowning  a  steep  bank,  was  not  without  attraction  to 
my  eyes  ;  but  the  noes  had  it,  and  I  turned  down  stream 
towards  the  Giralda,  which  seemed  nine  or  ten  miles 
distant. 

While  I  was  wandering  wearily  along  the  bank,  a  boat 
came  ploughing  up  the  stream  with  a  fresh  breeze  full 
behind  a  great  belly  of  white  canvas.  The  steady,  easy- 
going motion  made  me  wish  to  be  on  board,  sitting  at  leisure 
to  be  blown  along  to  fresh  adventures.  Not  long  after 
came  another,  and  I  had  more  than  half  a  mind  to  hail  her, 
and  see  whether  they  would  take  me  up  to  Alcala. 

Against  this  project  there  was  the  uncertainty  whether 
they  would  go  as  far  ;  whether  the  wind  would  not  be  con- 
trary in  the  next  reach,  and  whether  they  would  stop  for 
me  if  I  asked  them.  Besides  which,  it  was  to  be  considered 
that  I  was  weary  and  footsore,  and  in  want  of  washing  and 
clean  linen,  and  should  probably  be  still  more  so,  and  still 
less  fit  to  prosecute  my  adventures  on  the  morrow,  when  I 
might  find  myself,  perhaps,  quite  knocked  up,  at  a  consider- 
able distance  from  home. 

These  considerations  only  lasted  long  enough  for  the  boat 
to  sail  by  ;  and  by  the  time  she  was  fairly  out  of  my  reach, 
I  was  very  sorry  I  had  been  so  irresolute  and  prudent.  I 
determined  that  I  was  destined  to  go  by  a  third  and  luckier 
boat,  for  which,  however,  I  did  not  think  it  wise  to  wait 
here,  in  case  it  should  never  come.  Continuing  to  approach 
Seville  by  the  bank,  I  came  at  last  to  a  reed  hut.  Here 
were  an  old  man  and  woman,  and  a  little  boy  about 
twelve. 

103 


The  Fisherman's  Hut 

They  were  sitting  round  a  smouldering  wood  fire,  which 
burnt  upon  a  circular  mud  hearth,  sunk  in  the  floor  like 
the  mouth  of  a  well,  and  about  a  foot  and  a  half  deep,  so 
that  the  edges  of  the  floor  served  to  sit  upon,  while  the  feet 
of  the  family  rested  upon  the  sunken  hearth.  They  made  me 
welcome,  and  the  fisherman  asked  what  he  could  do  for  me. 
I  said  I  was  waiting  for  a  boat  to  take  me  up  to  Alcala,  and 
should  be  happy  to  avail  myself  of  the  shelter  of  his  roof, 
and  should  be  much  obliged  to  him  if  he  would  stop  the 
next  boat  for  me,  whether  up  or  down  stream,  for  I  was 
indifferent  whether  I  went  to  Alcala  or  Seville. 

I  got  a  drink  of  water,  and  lay  down  on  a  great  heap  of 
nets,  which  would  have  been  a  more  comfortable  couch,  but 
for  the  cork  floats.  The  fisherman  went  out  to  watch  for 
sails.  His  wife  was  stitching  away  at  a  very  ragged  pair  of 
trousers  belonging  to  the  little  boy.  It  appeared,  neverthe- 
less, that  they  were  his  best  ;  for,  during  the  operation,  he 
sat  shivering  without  any,  and  encouraging  his  mother  to 
make  haste. 

I  asked  her  whether  her  husband  caught  many  fish,  and 
what  sort,  and  whether  he  made  a  good  living.  She  said 
*'  that  they  were  very  poor  and  wretched  now,  because  el 
huen  Dios  had  sent  no  rain."  I  did  not  see  precisely  how 
dry  weather  could  make  them  poor  ;  but  she  continued  : 
"  When  the  rains  fall,  and  there  is  a  fresh  in  the  river,  then 
the  savalo  (shad)  comes  up  from  the  sea  in  great  plenty  ;  but 
now  the  river  is  so  low,  he  can  catch  nothing  at  all." 

Having  answered  my  questions,  she  began  to  interrogate 
me,  in  return,  as  to  my  nation,  and  what  I  was.  She 
admired  the  good  condition  of  my  clothes,  saying  they  were 
muy  decentesy  so  that  I  was  evidently  not  shabby  enough  for 
a  real  vagabond.  I  rested  in  the  hut  about  two  hours,  when, 
as  no  boat  appeared,  I  took  my  leave  of  the  picturesque 

104 


Genuine   Goodwill 

hut,  and  its  equally  picturesque  inhabitants,  giving  the  old 
woman  a  silver  real. 

This  sum,  vi^hich  is  a  shade  more  than  tw^opence-halfpenny, 
seemed  to  strike  the  whole  family  in  heaps  of  gratitude  and 
astonishment.  The  old  woman  said  they  had  done  nothing 
to  deserve  it,  and  the  fisherman  begged  me  to  let  him  put 
me  across  the  river  in  his  boat,  that  he  might  earn  it  with 
some  shadow  of  justice.  But  the  shortest  way  to  Seville 
did  not  cross  the  river  here,  so  I  begged  him  to  accept  it 
amistosamente  (in  a  friendly  manner),  and  he  might  put  me 
across  in  his  boat  some  other  day,  when  I  returned  on  my 
way  to  Alcala.  I  had  previously  won  the  little  boy's  heart 
with  a  few  c'lgarillos^  so  that  I  departed  with  a  greater  mass 
of  genuine  goodwill  and  hearty  benedictions  than  I  suppose 
are  usually  purchased  for  twopence-halfpenny. 

Cutting  across  the  fields  to  another  angle  of  the  river,  I 
passed  it  in  the  ferry-boat,  and  trudged  home  to  Seville, 
where  I  arrived  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  My  landlady, 
Juliana,  had  almost  given  me  up  for  lost,  and  Seiior  Vasquez, 
my  Spanish  master,  had  afforded  her  very  little  consolation, 
merely  caramhaing  about  the  rashness  of  Britons,  and  the 
ruffianly  character  of  the  natives  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Seville. 

After  dinner,  I  went,  as  usual,  to  get  my  coffee  at  the 
casino,  where  my  friends  raised  their  eyebrows  some  inches 
at  the  recital  of  my  adventures.  One  of  them  wondered 
why  I  had  not  told  him,  and  he  would  have  taken  me  in 
his  carriage-and-four  to  see  the  ruins  of  Italica.  But 
Ramon  Ponce  de  Leon,  who  is  a  young  man  of  some  genius, 
and  of  an  adventurous  spirit,  said  it  was  an  "  expedlc'ion  muy 
graciosa  (a  very  quaint  expedition),  and  it  was  natural  I 
should  wish  to  see  the  sort  of  life  of  which  I  had  read  in 
Don  Quixote  and  Quevedo  "  ;  an  idea  which  most  of  the 

105 


Civilisation  in  Seville 

party  seemed  scarcely  to  see  the  force  of  when  it  was 
explained.  The  romance  of  their  lives  is  generally  to 
become  as  European  and  un-Spanish  as  possible.  It  is  one 
of  the  privileges  of  imagination  to  perceive  the  romantic 
element  in  what  is  familiar.  Perhaps  the  greatest  triumph 
of  the  genius  of  Cervantes  was  in  laying  the  scene  of  the 
best  romance  ever  written  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  his  own  home. 

We   adjourned  to  the  opera,  and   saw   the  troublesome 
Suppositiy  which  is  wearisomely  popular. 


1 06 


CHAPTER   X 

Seville,  Feb.  9,  1852. 
As  this  was  the  day  I  expected  Harry,  I  was  determined 
not  to  go  to  the  or'tlla  (quay)  early,  for  I  felt  sure  my 
impatience,  waiting  on  the  spot,  would  prevent  his  arriving. 
I  had  inquired,  in  my  morning  walk,  what  was  the  steamer's 
hour,  and  determined  to  hit  it  exactly.  Rushing  down  at 
the  appointed  moment,  I  found  my  informant  had  told  me 
wrong  ;  the  boat  had  arrived  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

On  the  quay  (down  a  broad,  sloping  causeway,  railed  off 
from  the  public)  there  was  a  pile  of  luggage.  A  remnant 
of  passengers  yet  bustled  around  it,  arguing,  struggling, 
and  bargaining  with  a  contentious  company  of  porters. 
Alas  !  Harry  was  not  to  be  seen  among  them.  There  was 
still  a  chance  ;  he  might  be  one  of  the  passengers  who  had 
got  ashore  before  my  coming  down,  and  I  was  just  pre- 
paring to  rush  back  to  the  city  to  ransack  the  hotels.  Just 
then,  an  internal  convulsion  shook  the  swarm  around  the 
luggage  pile  ;  out  burst  a  little  Gallego,  staggering  under  a 
huge  British  portmanto,  and  followed  by  its  much-desired 
and  now  almost  despaired-of  proprietor. 

I  saw  him  come  bowling  up  the  slope  with  his  familiar 
gait,  evidently  unconscious  of  my  presence,  and  wearing 
that  sturdy  and  almost  hostile  demeanour  with  which  a 
true  Briton  marches  into  a  strange  city,  through  the  army 
of  officious  importunates,  who  never  fail  to  welcome    the 

107 


The  Arrival 

true  Briton's  arrival.  As  he  passed  the  barrier,  he  came 
close  to  me  in  the  crowd,  still  without  recognising  me, 
though  straight  before  his  nose,  for  I  was  dressed  in  the 
costume  of  the  people.  I  touched  his  elbow,  and  he  turned 
upon  me  with  a  look  of  impatient  defiance,  thinking  me  one 
persecutor  more. 

How  quickly  the  expression  changed,  and  to  what,  I 
leave  you  to  imagine..  We  rushed  into  each  other's  arms, 
as  much  as  the  many  great-coats  slung  over  his  shoulders, 
and  the  deep  folds  of  cloak  in  which  I  was  enveloped, 
would  mutually  permit.  Then,  saying  more  than  a 
thousand  things  in  a  breath,  or  rather  in  no  breath  at  all, 
we  set  oflF  in  great  glee  for  my  lodgings,  forgetting,  in  the 
excitement,  the  poor  little  porter  who  was  following  us  at 
full  trot,  panting  and  puffing  under  the  heavy  portmanto. 

After  dinner,  we  sallied  forth  beneath  the  stars,  to  see 
Seville  by  moonlight  from  the  top  of  the  Giralda.  Having 
come  to  where  that  wonderful  wand,  lifted  by  the  magic 
hand  of  the  Moor,  points  whither  all  pinnacles,  whether  of 
mosque  or  cathedral,  do  point,  however  much  the  way  to 
heaven  may  differ  on  the  lower  story,  we  entered  the 
dwelling  at  its  base,  where  some  of  the  family  were  going 
to  bed.  A  young  man  got  ready  a  lantern,  and  leading  us 
through  a  sloppy  back-kitchen  and  other  damp  premises, 
preceded  us  up  the  succession  of  inclined  planes  which 
ascend  the  tower. 

Imagine  an  interminable  sloping  gallery  in  the  wall, 
corkscrewing  round  and  round  the  tower,  or  rather  square 
and  square,  with  landing-places  at  the  corners,  and  here 
and  there  large  niches,  where  two  arabesque  arches,  divided 
by  a  slender  column  of  glittering  marble,  let  in  the  night, 
thwarted   by  the  graceful  balustrade  of  a  jutting  balcony. 

The  dark  ascent  of  the  echoing  corridor, — the  cloaked 

1 08 


Ascent  of  the  Giralda 

figure  of  our  guide  ahead,  with  the  moving,  downcast  flare 
of  his  lantern  on  the  stony  slope, — these  richly-framed, 
momentary  pictures  of  the  enchanted,  moonlight-sprinkled 
city,  as  from  glimpse  to  glimpse  it  sank  beneath  our  feet, 
and  exposed  a  widening  rim  of  hazy  horizon  ; — all  these 
things  together  struck  us  with  that  delicate  impression  of 
the  mysterious  and  romantic  which  is  so  difficult  to  put  on 
paper,  or  even  to  describe  afterwards  with  spoken  words. 
We  were  content  to  explain  ourselves  to  each  other  by 
agreeing  that  it  seemed  like  one  of  the  Arabian  nights. 

Well,  there  is  an  end  to  all  things,  even  to  square  cork- 
screws, and  at  last  we  emerged  where  the  muezzin  used  to 
cry,  "  La  ela  ilia  Allah  "  (There  is  no  God  but  the  God), 
and  where  now  the  most  powerfully  unmusical  jangle  of 
bells  in  the  world  ring  at  random  hours  without  any 
ascertainable  rule  or  intention  whatever.  Looking  down 
over  the  dizzy  parapet  on  one  side,  we  could  see  here  and 
there  little  cloaked  mannikins  crawling  over  the  straitened 
pavement  ;  on  the  other,  also  far  beneath,  expanded  the 
broad  stone  roofs  of  the  body  of  the  cathedral,  whose 
massive  flying  buttresses,  touched  by  the  moonbeams, 
seemed  the  hoary  ribs  of  some  old  mammoth  skeleton. 

Around,  irregularly  grouped  clusters  of  quaint,  fantastic 
housetops  and  towers  and  gables  strung  like  charms  on 
tangled  street-lines,  extended  a  chequered  labyrinth.  Along 
the  dark  line  of  the  Guadalquivir  lay  the  white  range  of 
Triana.  On  this  side  of  the  river,  but  still  distant,  the 
bull-ring  looked  about  the  shape  and  size  of  a  quoit.  On 
the  left,  near  the  foot  of  the  tower,  stood  the  rich 
Arabesque  alcazar  of  the  Moorish  kings  of  Seville.  Beyond, 
spread  a  vaster  edifice,  square,  covering  five  or  six  acres, 
and  seeming  a  palace  too.  What  do  you  think  it  was  ? 
The  tobacco-manufactory.    Isabel  II.  is  the  sole  tobacconist 

109 


Seville  by  Moonlight 

in  her  realm,  and  as  all  its  denizens  are  her  customers,  she 
must  do  a  very  pretty  business. 

Beyond  the  orange  and  lemon-groves  of  the  Delicias,  the 
watery  serpent  coiled  avi^ay  along  the  plain,  w^ith  here  and 
there  a  distant  reach  that  caught  the  silver  of  the  skies. 
Going  round  to  the  east  side  of  the  tower,  where,  by  the 
way,  we  came  out  but  did  not  stop  (deeming,  with  that 
restless  impatience  to  which  humanity  is  prone,  that  what 
first  presented  itself  must  be  least  worth  looking  at),  we 
beheld  in  the  far  horizon  the  converging  ranges  of  the 
Sierra  Morena  and  the  mountains  of  Ronda.  The  dim 
intervening  plain  was  dotted  here  and  there  with  bright 
towers,  that  rose  against  the  slanting  rays.  The  moon  was 
full,  and  such  a  moon  !  We  singled  out  the  loftiest  point 
in  the  horizon,  part  of  the  Sierra  di  Ronda,  whither  to 
direct  our  steps  when  we  leave  this  place.  We  have 
determined  to  take  no  guide,  but  to  ride  from  peak  to  peak, 
always  selecting  the  most  ambitious  land-mark  we  can 
get  sight  of,  and  trusting  to  Providence  for  supper  and 
adventures. 


IIO 


CHAPTER   XI 

Seville,  Feb.  21,  1852. 
We  have  just  come  in  from  a  midnight  ramble  through 
the  streets,  with  vistas,  and  clair-obscures,  and  shady  angles, 
and  salient  corners,  and  arches,  and  columns,  and  tw^inkling 
lights,  and  serenaders  with  tinkling  guitars,  and  senoritas 
robed  in  white,  waving  cambric  kerchiefs  from  balconies, 
and  watchmen  crying,  "  Ave  Maria  puriiiiisimaaaaaa,"  to 
a  narrow  strip  of  stars  peeping  down  between  the  leaning 
eaves. 

We  are  to  start  now  in  a  day  or  two,  having  got  our 
beasts  of  burden.  Mine  I  bought  of  a  baker,  a  good  trade 
to  buy  a  horse  from  !  Why  ? — He  is  likely  to  be  the 
better  bred.  I  cannot  describe  him  now,  but  I  dare  say  I 
shall  have  plenty  to  say  about  him  on  the  road.  He  is  a 
charming,  vicious  little  black  beauty,  and  the  livery-man, 
who  has  the  charge  of  him,  says  he  is  a  "  demonio "  in 
the  stable. 

Harry  has  got  a  more  peaceable  chestnut  ;  both  seem 
good  and  sound.  During  these  our  last  days  in  Seville,  the 
population  has  been  in  a  hubbub  of  rejoicing  for  the  queen's 
happy  delivery  from  her  physicians  and  priest  ;  it  cannot  be 
ascertained  from  which  she  ran  the  greater  risk,  since  her 
constitution  (can  it  be  a  Spanish  one  ?)  has  weathered  both. 

As  a  humane  way  of  rejoicing  for  the  queen's  escape, 
there    was,   among   other    things,  a    bull-fight ;    and,    like 

in 


The  Bull-Ring 


naughty,  cruel  wretches,  we  went  to  see  it.  Bull-fights 
have  often  been  described  ;  I  will,  therefore,  endeavour  to 
make  mine  as  short  and  disgusting  as  my  powers  of  con- 
densation will  admit. 

An  arena  about  a  hundred  yards  in  diameter,  girt  by  a 
sloping  amphitheatre,  and  half  surrounded  above  by  arched 
and  columned  galleries,  is  filled  by  twelve  thousand  men, 
women,  and  children,  all  impatient.  A  score  or  so  of  men, 
arrayed  in  scarlet  and  yellow  and  purple  and  pink  and 
green  and  blue,  embroidered  and  laced  and  frogged  and 
tasselled  and  tagged  with  gold  and  silver  and  silk,  are 
strutting  about  upon  the  sand. 

There  is  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  A  door  is  opened  in 
the  wooden  barrier,  which  defends  the  lower  benches  of 
spectators,  and  in  rushes  a  broad-nosed,  innocent,  astonished- 
looking  bull.  He  looks  here  and  there,  and  round  about 
him,  and  has  every  reason  to  be  surprised,  if  not  alarmed. 
The  men  in  gaudy  colours  at  first  keep  a  respectful  distance, 
and  observe  whether  he  is  very  fierce  ;  then  the  boldest  of 
them  goes  forward.  The  foolish  bull  now  thinks  he  has 
discovered  his  principal  enemy,  and  canters  towards  him 
with  the  full  intention  of  playing  cup  and  ball  with  his  body 
on  the  points  of  his  horns. 

As  the  bull  reaches  him,  he  flings  out  his  cloak  and  skips 
aside,  so  that  the  horns  impinge  on  nothing  but  a  cloud  of 
floating  drapery.  Sometimes  it  is  carried  away  on  the 
points,  and  the  disappointed  beast  shakes  it  off  his  face,  and 
gores  and  tramples  it  in  the  dust.  The  other  men  do  the 
same  as  the  first,  with  more  or  less  agility,  and  there  is  a 
good  deal  of  running  about  and  jumping  over  the  barriers, 
into  which  the  pursuer  comes  full  tilt.  The  public  are  soon 
tired  of  these  first  performers,  who  are  called  the  burladores 
(jokers)  or  chulillos. 

112 


Burladores  and   Bandarilleros 

Then  come  in  the  bandarilleros.  Each  man  has  a  pair  of 
barbed  javelins,  wreathed  and  rosetted  with  gay-coloured 
strips  of  paper.  The  first  performer  places  himself  in  front 
of  the  bull,  standing  with  his  heels  together,  and  leaning 
slightly  forward  ;  he  waves  his  rustling  wands,  something 
in  the  manner  of  lagrace  sticks,  or  as  if  he  were  fortifying 
his  challenge  by  some  magnetic  spell,  for  he  points  his 
weapons  toward  the  forehead  of  his  antagonist,  and  traces 
mysterious  diagrams  in  the  air. 

The  bull,  as  if  some  superstitious  element  in  his  character 
were  awakened  by  these  exorcisms,  usually  pauses  some 
moments  to  contemplate  this  double-wanded  wizard,  the 
first  man  who  has  faced  him  yet,  without  the  aid  of  that 
bewildering  volubility  of  cloak.  At  length  the  bull  starts 
like  an  express-train,  and  the  bandarillero  runs  lightly 
forward  to  meet  him,  like  a  dancing-master  in  pumps 
caught  in  a  shower.  As  they  meet,  he  skips  nimbly  aside 
on  light  fantastic  toe,  planting  in  the  same  instant  his  pair 
of  bandarillas  on  either  side  of  the  poor  beast's  neck.  The 
rest  do  likewise,  till  he  has  a  great  stiff  mane  of  javelins 
tossing  up  and  down  as  he  plunges  about,  bellowing  in  great 
agony,  with  the  barbs  working  in  his  flesh  at  a  great 
leverage. 

Then  another  flourish  of  trumpets,  and  in  come  the 
picadores  on  their  blindfold  steeds,  wearing  a  broad-brimmed 
stif^ish  wide-awake  with  many-coloured  plumes,  their  legs 
cased  in  bufF-leather  and  wood,  entrenched  in  a  tall  but- 
tressed fortification  of  saddle,  and  armed  with  a  stout  lance. 
One  of  them  challenges  the  bull,  poising  his  heavy  weapon 
under  his  arm.  The  bull  butts  at  him,  and  receives  the 
lance's  point  between  the  neck  and  shoulder.  The  point  is 
guarded  so  as  not  to  pierce  more  than  an  inch  or  two  ; 
there  is  then  a  desperate  pushing  bout,  the  man  and  bull 

113 


Picadores  and  Matador 

thrusting  for  safety  and  for  vengeance  at  either  end.  When 
the  struggle  lasts  long  it  is  called  "  dormir  sobre  cl  palo  " 
(to  sleep  upon  the  stick). 

At  last  the  bull  either  goes  away  disheartened,  or  forcing 
in  the  picador's  guard,  gores  the  horse  deeply  in  the  flank 
as  he  swerves  away.  The  other  picadores  do  likewise.  The 
noble,  patient  horses  go  on  at  this  work,  bleeding  bucketfuls 
all  the  time,  and  some  of  them  with  their  torn-out  entrails 
in  festoons,  till  they  drop  down  fainting  from  loss  of  blood. 
Lying  flat  they  do  not  bleed  so  fast,  and  recover  their  con- 
sciousness to  receive  an  occasional  lift  from  the  sharp  horns, 
as  the  bull  in  pursuit  of  his  persecutors  recognises  in  his 
path  the  corse  of  a  fallen  foe. 

When  the  bull  is  getting  tired  the  company  call  for  the 
matador.  He  is  the  smartest  of  the  party.  He  marches 
solemnly  forward  to  make  his  bow  in  front  of  the 
president's  balcony,  throws  away  his  hat,  and  goes  forth  to 
slay  and  make  an  end.  His  victim,  sated  with  fruitless 
victory  over  superior  numbers,  and  weary  of  bloodshed,  has 
to  be  provoked  with  many  flouts  and  indignities  before  he 
will  deign  to  engage  in  this  single-handed  and,  seemingly, 
insignificant  combat. 

At  last  he  comes.  The  matador  whips  a  long  gleaming 
rapier  out  of  the  scarlet  flag  with  which  he  draws  the  beast's 
attention  to  his  left,  while,  stepping  to  the  right,  he  plunges 
his  sword  through  the  left  shoulder  down  into  the  heart. 
For  a  few  moments  the  bull  staggers  about,  snorting  little 
crimson  clouds,  seeming  bewildered  by  the  new  sensation 
of  dying.  He  soon  feels  how  it  is,  and  goes  majestically 
down  on  his  knees,  with  his  bold,  broad  face  of  honest 
defiance  towards  his  destroyer. 

The  butcher  now  runs  up  behind,  and  strikes  him  with 
his  knife  in  the  back  of  the  head  :  the  spine  is  separated 

114 


Our  Feelings 


and  he  rolls  over  and  dies.  A  flourish  of  trumpets — a  buzz 
of  twelve  thousand  voices  criticising  his  end — and  a  team 
of  four  mules  abreast  are  harnessed  to  the  carcase.  They 
gallop  out,  while  the  music  sounds  again,  dragging  by  the 
heels  along  the  sand  the  Hector  of  the  ring,  leaving  a  long 
wake  of  dust-cloud  behind. 

So  it  ends,  and  begins  again.  Some  of  the  bulls  are 
more  savage  than  others.  One  declined  to  fight,  and  the 
indignant  populace  called  for  dogs  to  worry  him.  Another, 
in  making  a  sudden  turn  upon  his  enemies,  dislocated  his 
spine  and  lost  the  use  of  his  hind  legs.  The  poor  creature 
could  not  tell  what  was  the  matter,  and  struggled  about 
with  his  forelegs,  dragging  the  paralysed  remainder  of 
himself  along  the  ground. 

We  sat  and  smoked,  and  were  not  so  much  horrified 
as  would  suit  the  ideas  of  a  British  public,  nor  so  much 
excited  as  would  flatter  a  Spanish  one,  but  we  were  occa- 
sionally both  one  and  the  other  to  a  moderate  degree. 
They  say  that  this  is  child's-play,  because  the  bulls  are 
feeble  and  tame  now  in  the  cool  weather.  After  all,  in 
spite  of  the  atrocity  of  the  thing,  it  is  a  fine  sight,  and  there 
is  enough  of  the  savage,  wild-beast  element  in  the  heart  of 
man  to  make  these  desperate  and  bloody  struggles  interest- 
ing to  him. 

What  I  felt  to  be  more  objectionable  than  the  bloodshed 
was,  that  the  bull  had  not  fair  play,  nor  any  chance  of 
escape.  Besides  which,  poetical  justice  demanded  that  there 
should  be  a  fair  equivalent  of  men  killed  in  proportion 
to  the  horses.  I  felt,  at  the  time,  I  should  have  liked  to 
be  a  good,  strong,  active  bull,  aware  of  the  stratagems  of 
the  art,  to  have  made  havoc  among  the  gaudy  bullies  ;  and 
I  believe  we  should  have  shouted  with  all  the  rest  of  the 
company  if  one  of  the  human  wretches  had  been  caught 

115  H 


Fireworks 

and  mangled.  However,  it  is  fair  to  say,  that  there  were  no 
men  hurt,  and  if  there  had,  our  human  would  probably  have 
overpowered  our  brutal  sympathies. 

As  we  are  prepared  to  set  out  in  a  day  or  two,  heavily 
armed  with  pistols,  and  determined  not  to  surrender  except 
to  overwhelming  numbers  of  banditti,  we  thought  it 
prudent  to  sit  up  last  night  to  make  our  wills. 

This  evening  fireworks  were  let  off  from  the  new  iron 
bridge  over  the  Guadalquivir,  which  is  to  be  opened  to- 
morrow. We,  with  a  large  party  of  our  Spanish  friends, 
saw  everything  to  great  advantage  from  a  barge  on  the 
river.  Such  a  mass  of  many-coloured  fire  on  the  dappled 
mirror  of  the  flowing  waters,  with  dark,  crowded  boats 
glancing  here  and  there  athwart  the  burning  ripples  ;  the 
shores  around  all  hung  with  myriad  lamps  ;  and  the  planet 
Venus,  like  a  permanent  rocket-star,  looking  down  over  the 
eaves  of  Triana  on  the  perishable  efforts  of  pyrotechny — 
altogether  resulted  in  what  is  familiarly  termed  a  striking 
scene. 

The  other  day,  we  and  some  other  Englishmen  got  up  a 
funcion  of  gipsy-dancing  in  the  court  of  a  great  building  on 
the  bank  of  the  river,  originally  erected,  I  believe,  by  an 
embryo  gas  company,  which  was  rendered  abortive  by  a 
combination  of  the  Sevillian  oil-sellers. 

Terpsichore  is  not  my  favourite  muse,  and  I  found  it 
rather  melancholy  mirth.  The  dance  is  a  barbarous 
Oriental  gesticulating  wriggle ;  the  performers  stooping, 
swaying  their  bodies,  and  waving  their  arms,  and  clacking 
their  castanets  to  the  sound  of  the  guitar.  It  was  a 
picturesque  scene,  but  the  weather  and  the  spirits  of  the 
party  were  rather  cold.  The  gipsies  made  us  taste  the 
victuals  we  had  provided,  under  an  impression  that  we  were 
about  to  make  them  eat  roast  dog,  and  would  not  get  tipsy 

ii6 


The  Gitanas 

as  was  expected  of  them  in  reason  as  well  as  rhyme.  The 
gipsies  of  Seville  differ  but  little  in  appearance  from  the 
Spaniards,  except  that  the  men  are  more  hangdog-looking, 
and  the  women  plainer  than  usual ;  their  complexions  are 
perhaps  a  shade  swarthier. 

Their  singing  is  like  any  other  wild,  barbarous,  melan- 
choly howling,  fit  to  mingle  with  the  murmurs  of  a  dreary 
wind  whistling  through  an  uncomfortable  tent  on  the 
corner  or  a  wilderness.  A  plaintive  gusty  wail,  with  long 
quavering  cadences,  that  begin  loud  and  die  away  to 
nothing.  It  reminds  one  of  the  crying  of  a  child,  which, 
weary  of  the  monotony  of  plain  prosaic  weeping,  begins 
to  play  with  its  lamentation  and  fashion  it  into  the  rude 
resemblance  of  a  song.  I  have  heard  semi-barbarous  women 
among  other  Southern  nations,  who,  when  almost  delirious 
with  grief,  bemoaned  themselves  in  a  sort  of  chanted  rhythm 
— the  earliest  type,  no  doubt,  of  elegiac  poetry. 


117 


CHAPTER   XII 

Utrera,  February  24. 
The  world  keeps  whirling  round,  and  remote  contin- 
gencies come  to  pass  almost  by  waiting  for  them  !  How 
distant  and  improbable  it  seemed  two  months  ago  that  we 
should  ever  make  this  expedition,  which  I  used  to  talk 
about  with  faithless  enthusiasm  like  any  other  castle  in  the 
air.  Then  Harry  actually  came,  and  we  set  about  our  pre- 
parations. Even  then,  how  far  off  our  start  appeared  ! 
How  impossible  to  get  suitably  mounted  at  a  purchasable 
figure  among  the  cheateries  of  Andalusian  chalanes^  whom 
it  is  impossible  to  persuade  that  one  is  "  Yorkshire  too  !  " 

Here,  as  everywhere,  the  old  impression  pervades  that 
Englishmen  are  (very  loosely)  made  of  money,  and  con- 
tinually dropping  to  (gold)  pieces.  However,  we  got 
ourselves  up  in  costume,  and  attended  the  beast  fair  in  the 
Plaza  de  la  Paja  twice  a  week,  and  bargained  and  turned 
up  our  noses  at  the  animals,  and  stimulated  a  patient 
confidence  that  we  should  meet  with  what  we  wanted  at 
our  own  price  in  good  time,  and,  in  the  end,  got  a  couple 
of  useful  ponies  for  about  eight  pounds  apiece. 

Then  they  had  to  be  fitted  with  trappings,  and  we  led 
them  through  the  streets  to  a  variety  of  saddlers'  shops, 
where  we  tried  on  and  bargained  for  the  necessary  articles 
of  apparel.  Then  there  was  the  packing — which  to  me  is 
always  two-thirds  of  a  journey's  fatigue — in  this  case  aggra- 

118 


Our  Get   Up  and  Set  OfF 

vated  by  the  harrowingly  dubious  separation,  of  things 
absolutely  necessary  on  the  road  to  go  in  the  alforjas^  from 
the  chaos  of  a  voluminous  portmanto,  containing  almost  all 
my  worldly  goods  of  any  importance. 

However,  one  after  another,  all  things  came  about  :  and 
on  Tuesday,  February  24th,  with  our  voluminous  cloaks 
and  plethoric  alforjas  over  our  shoulders,  many  pistols  in 
our  fajas  (scarf-belts),  and  all  got  up  in  the  thorough  con- 
trabandista  style,  we  sallied  forth  from  the  numero  tres 
segundo  Calle  de  Velasquez,  where  I  had  lived  during  my 
sojourn  of  four  months  in  Seville,  We  wended  our  way 
across  the  vast  dismantled  gap  in  the  heart  of  the  city,  left 
by  the  destruction  of  the  great  convent  of  San  Francisco, 
and  came  to  the  stables.  We  had  a  slight  altercation  with 
the  livery-man,  a  fat  thief,  who  wished  to  charge  us  for 
more  days  than  our  ponies  had  been  in  pupilage. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  of  a  bright,  warm  morning, 
when,  aiming  at  the  Puerta  de  Carmona,  we  hit  that  of  La 
Carne,  and  therethrough  sallied  forth  upon  Spain  at  large. 
Having  studiously  avoided  to  study  the  maps  and  guide- 
books (which  we,  nevertheless,  carried  with  us,  in  case  of 
need),  we  rode  directly  towards  our  favourite  peak  in  the 
horizon,  conversing — a-propos  of  our  late  brush  with  the 
stableman — on  the  most  effectual  way  of  dealing  with 
Spanish  louts.  In  this  controversy,  Harry  advocated  the 
sharp  and  decisive  sternness  of  an  assumed  superiority,  and 
I  a  mild  and  persuasive  gentleness  ;  so  it  was  agreed  that, 
in  our  next  difficulty,  I  was  to  shine  first,  and  if  fair  weather 
failed,  then  he  should  thunder  afterwards. 

Passing,  in  discussion,  the  dark-green,  golden-dotted 
orange  groves  and  spiry  cypresses  which  encircle  the  city, 
we  came  to  a  little  bridge  with  a  great  hole  broken  through 
its  arch,  and,  strange  to  say,  workmen  mending  it.     Then, 

119 


The  Dehesa 

fording  the  Guadaira  below  the  dam  of  a  picturesque  mill, 
we  reached,  after  a  mile  or  two,  the  edge  of  the  dehesa,  or 
wilderness.  Here  we  picketed  our  ponies, — that  is  to  say, 
we  drove  an  iron  spike  into  the  ground  ;  and  to  that  spike 
there  is  a  ring,  and  through  that  ring  there  is  a  cord  ; 
which  cord,  being  tied  at  about  seven  yards'  length  round 
the  pony's  neck,  allows  him  to  graze  with  much  more  fresh 
air  and  liberty  to  sweeten  his  vegetable  diet  than  ever  the 
prisoner  of  Chillon  had. 

Not  satisfied  with  this,  however,  my  little  black  beast 
must  needs  break  away,  and  pulling  up  his  spike,  scamper 
back  towards  Seville,  whose  spires  and  towers  still  appeared 
in  the  distance.  The  other  pony  followed  his  example,  and 
we  ran  after  them. 

I  will  leave  the  whole  party  running  while  I  tell  you 
why  we  stopped  on  the  margin  of  the  dehesa.  If  you  ever 
were  a  bad  little  boy  run  away  from  school,  you  will  know 
that  the  first  thing  one  does  on  emerging  from  one's 
immediate  troubles,  upon  the  world  at  large,  is  to  stop  and 
think.  We  had  broken  loose  from  the  trammels  of  society, 
disguised  in  a  strange  garb,  with  ponies  to  carry  us  where- 
ever  we  chose,  and  were  about  to  realise  the  romance  of 
many  dreams. 

We  had  besides  to  load  our  pistols  (for  we  were  full  of 
ideas  of  the  dangers  of  the  road),  to  arrange  our  saddles, 
and  cloaks,  and  manias,  which,  in  the  hurry  of  setting  off, 
had  been  badly  organised;  we  also  intended  to  take  a  sketch 
of  the  last  appearance  of  Seville.  In  Spain,  the  preface  to 
everything  is  a  c'lgarillo,  a  little  squib  of  tobacco  rolled  in 
thin  paper,  which  it  takes  a  man  of  average  talent  six  months 
to  learn  to  make.  We  had  just  accomplished  this  delicate 
operation,  and  were  about  to  light,  when  the  ponies  ran 
away,  and  we  after  them. 

120 


Flight  of  the  Ponies 

We  had  not  gone  far,  though  far  enough  to  see  clearly 
that  they  could  go  much  faster  than  we  could  follow,  when 
the  thought  of  our  innocent  and  helpless  alforjas^  left  a  prey 
to  any  ravening  marauder  who  might  cross  the  wilderness, 
brought  us  up  short.  Harry  went  back  to  guard  the  baggage, 
and  I  followed  the  ponies,  expecting  I  should  have  to  go  back 
all  the  way  to  the  livery-stable  in  the  Calle  del  Viscaino. 

At  the  picturesque  mill  I  heard  they  had  re-crossed  the 
Guadaira  at  full  gallop,  and  I  trudged  along  beneath  the 
sultry  sun  of  February,  in  much  despondence  and  perspira- 
tion, till  I  happened  to  think  of  the  broken  bridge,  where 
the  workmen  must  have  stopped  them.  So  it  turned  out, 
for  soon  after  I  was  met  by  two  of  them  leading  the  truants. 
They  had  got  their  saddles  turned  round,  and  each  had 
trampled  off  one  of  his  stirrups. 

Having  tried  in  vain  riding  the  one  to  lead  the  other,  I 
led  them  back,  and  arriving  hot  and  breathless  within  half  a 
mile  of  our  encampment,  I  was  startled  by  the  report  of  a 
pistol  in  that  direction.  Approaching  cautiously,  I  could 
see  nothing  of  Harry,  and  the  terrible  idea  flashed  across 
my  mind  that  robbers  had  found  him  alone  guarding  the 
baggage,  and  had  shot  him.  Then  it  occurred  to  me,  that 
when  they  found  two  alforjas^  they  would  presume  he  had  a 
companion  (who  might  institute  a  search,  unless  also  dis- 
posed of),  and  were  therefore  perhaps  lying  in  wait  among 
the  low  brushwood  to  shoot  me  also  as  soon  as  I  should 
come  within  range. 

I  therefore  approached  by  as  open  ground  as  possible, 
that  they  might  not  get  too  easy  a  shot  at  me  ;  and  when  I 
came  as  near  as  I  thought  safe,  I  shouted  his  name.  After 
an  anxious  moment  or  two  an  answer  was  returned  in  well- 
known  accents,  which  relieved  me  from  my  apprehensions. 
Still  the  shot  was  to  be  accounted  for. 

121 


A  Horrible  Suspicion 

Has  your  imagination  prepared  you  for  something  dread- 
ful ?     Mine  had — something  like  what  follows. 

I  approached  the  spot,  and  found  Harry  sitting  among 
the  cloaks  and  luggage,  smoking  ;  but  I  saw  in  an  instant, 
by  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  the  nervous  twitch  of  his 
lips,  which  made  the  cigar-end  shake,  that  something  serious 
had  happened. 

"  I  have  been  and  done  it,  and  there  he  lies,  poor  fellow  ; 
but  it  was  his  own  fault." 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  I  exclaimed,  as,  turning  where  he 
pointed,  I  saw,  at  about  seven  yards'  distance,  the  foot  of  a 
man  sticking  out  of  a  plot  of  brushwood.  "  Good  Heavens  ! 
is  he  dead  ?  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? — what  has 
happened  ? — and  here  is  another  saddle  ! — and  what  is 
that  grey  horse  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  ;  but,  in  the  meanwhile  we  had  better 
pack  our  beasts,  and  be  off  as  quick  as  we  can.  I  was 
sitting  here  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  when  this  man 
came  riding  across  the  dehesa^  and  seeing  me,  turned  this 
way.  I  had  loaded  my  long  pistols,  and  had  one  of  them 
ready  cocked  in  my  hand,  under  a  fold  of  the  cloak  I  was 
lying  on.  After  asking  me  a  good  many  impudent  ques- 
tions, which  I  answered  with  as  much  patience  as  I  could, 
he  said,  at  last, — 

" '  Ah  !  I  see  you  are  a  foreigner,  probably  on  a  long 
journey.  Es  regular  que  tienes  dinero  (it  is  to  be  supposed 
you  have  money).  That  is  what  I  am  come  for,  with  your 
permission.  I  am  Pedro  Paredes,  for  that  which  your 
worship  may  please  to  command — a  notable  bandit,  at 
whose  name  the  civil  guards  tremble.'  Saying  this,  he 
unslung  his  escopet  from  the  hinder  peak  of  his  saddle,  and 
dismounted,  to  take  a  steadier  shot,  in  case  of  need. 

"  Instead    of  getting   up,  I  pulled    the  saddle-bags  and 

122 


Something  Like   What  Follows 

cloaks  into  a  heap,  and  lying  on  my  stomach,  presented  the 
muzzle  of  my  pistol  over  the  battery.  '  Now  then,  you 
impudent  rascal,'  I  said,  '  lay  down  your  gun  and  go  away, 
or  I'll  shoot  you,  before  you  can  coax  your  rusty  old  piece 
to  go  off;  and  I  should  advise  you  never  again  to  try  your 
hand  on  Englishmen  with  English  pistols  ! ' 

"  He  hesitated,  and  turned  pale,  and  was  stepping  back, 
when  I  said,  *  If  you  move  without  leaving  your  gun,  I  fire. 
Here,  I  have  the  advantage — at  a  distance,  you  might.' 

"  '  No  English  dog  shall  make  a  jest  of  the  Andaluz,'  he 
said,  a  sudden  fury  flushing  his  face.  He  presented  his 
gun  as  quickly  as  he  could,  and  we  both  fired  at  the  same 
moment  ;  but  my  pistol  had  been  on  his  heart  during  the 
discussion,  and  through  his  heart  it  went.  But  I  had  a 
nearish  escape  :  look  at  the  rim  of  my  hat." 

Sure  enough,  there  was  a  round  hole  in  the  broad 
upturned  brim  of  the  Calanih. 

"  Thank  God  you  are  no  worse,  but  what  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  We  had  better  leave  him  as  he  is  ;  he  has  fallen  with 
the  gun  clutched  in  his  hand.  If  we  don't  disturb  him,  and 
they  find  him  after  a  day  or  two,  with  money  in  his  pocket, 
and  all  those  silver  buttons  on  his  clothes,  they  will  think 
he  has  destroyed  himself ;  I  have  unsaddled  his  horse,  and 
turned  him  loose.  He  will  probably  stray  away,  and  not 
attract  immediate  attention  ;  we  must  throw  the  saddle  and 
bridle  into  another  bush.  There  now — we  had  better  put 
earth  between  us,  as  they  say." 

I  could  easily  perceive  that  he  was  deeply  shocked, 
though  the  excitement  gave  a  sort  of  painful  levity  to  his 
manner. 

Before  mounting,  I  went  to  look  at  the  corpse,  the  first  I 
had  ever  seen  of  one  who  had  died  a  violent  death.  He 
had  staggered  backwards  and   fallen  flat  on  his   back,  his 

123 


The  Bandit's  Corpse 

arms  and  legs  stretched  out  ;  one  hand  grasped  the  barrel 
of  his  musket,  and  the  other  a  bunch  of  slender  palmita 
stems,  whose  fan-like  heads,  rustling  to  the  almost  imper- 
ceptible breeze,  seemed  as  if  the  dead  hand  stirred  them.  I 
bent  aside  a  bush  of  rosemary  which  shadowed  the  face. 
One  eyelid  was  propped  up  by  a  rosemary  sprig,  and  the 
eye  beneath  still  glared  upwards  with  a  glazed  and  stupefied 
look  of  fierceness  and  terror.  In  bending  the  bush  back  to 
look  into  his  face,  I  had  stirred  the  sprig,  and  at  first  it 
seemed  that  he  was  alive.  However,  letting  go  the  twigs 
in  my  horror,  I  saw  how  it  was. 

He  was  a  fine,  broad-built  young  man,  with  marked  and 
striking  features,  denoting,  however,  more  strength  of 
passion  than  intellect.  The  healthy  sun-burnt  browns  of 
his  swarthy  face  were  turned  to  ghastly  yellows  on  the 
bloodless  and  ashy  skin.  The  bright-coloured  facings  and 
glittering  silver  tags  and  brooches  of  his  dress,  too,  added  a 
painful  contrast  of  holiday  splendour  to  the  faded  hues  of 
death. 

We  mounted  and  rode  away,  following  a  bridle-road 
which  led  us  shortly  into  the  olive-farms,  which  are  crossed 
in  all  directions  by  a  great  variety  of  sandy  tracks.  We 
kept  our  direction  as  well  as  we  could,  and  met  nobody, 
which  we  thought  lucky.  At  length  we  came  to  a  road 
which  seemed  larger  and  more  important.  This  soon  split 
into  two  at  a  picturesque,  but  apparently  deserted  hacienda 
(homestead),  and  as  we  could  not  see  our  peak  in  the  undu- 
lating country  in  which  we  were,  we  tossed  up  a  broad 
ounce-piece  of  gold,  whether  we  should  take  the  right  or  left. 

The  left  one  won,  which  looked  sinister ;  but  we  took  it, 
and  rode  along  till  we  came  to  a  great  road,  which  must 
evidently  be  a  camino  real.  On  this  we  had  not  gone  far 
before  we  came  to  a  venta.     Here  we  asked  how  far  it  was 

124 


The  Road  by  Twilight 

to  Seville,  and  found  it  was  only  four  leagues,  Alcala  de 
Guadaira  being  about  half-way  on  the  great  road. 

We  wanted  to  stop  at  the  venta  for  the  night,  but  they 
had  no  stables,  so  we  got  some  bread  and  wine  to  satisfy 
the  cravings  of  hunger,  and  hearing  there  was  a  town  two 
leagues  further  on,  we  determined  to  press  on,  though  it 
was  near  sunset,  and  we  should  have  a  good  way  to  ride  in 
the  dark.  The  woman  at  the  venta  stared  at  us  a  good 
deal  ;  so,  taking  pity  on  her  curiosity,  I  asked  her  confiden- 
tially what  she  took  us  for,  and  gave  her  full  liberty  to 
guess  as  many  times  as  she  chose. 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  your  worships  are  without  doubt 
French  caballeros^  and  it  is  regular  that  you  travel  with  per- 
fumery ;  but  I  never  saw  Frenchmen  with  so  many  pistols 
and  poniards." 

"  We  are  no  Frenchmen,  sefiora^  but  English  artists,  at 
your  service  ;  and  pistols  and  knives  are  to  an  Englishman 
indispensable  necessaries  of  life." 

"  There  are  not  so  many  of  the  '  mala  gente '  about  now 
since  the  Guardia  Civil  are  so  rife  on  the  road.  Famos  ! 
do  you  not  take  the  rest  of  your  loaf  with  you  ?  " 

"It  is  much  at  your  disposal — remain  with  God, 
seHora.^^ 

"  The  English  are  of  a  truth  very  rich  and  noble — may 
your  worships  go  with  God,  caballeros" 

As  we  rode  on,  the  sun  soon  went  down,  and  the  dusk 
deepened  rapidly.  We  were  joined  by  a  man  on  an  ass, 
who  entered  into  conversation. 

"  By  your  speech,  caballeros^  I  should  say  you  were  not 
of  these  parts  ;  are  you  not  afraid  to  travel  on  these  roads 
after  dark  ?  There  is  a  formidable  band  which  greatly 
infests  the  neighbourhood  of  Utrera.  They  robbed  a  traveller 
last  week  of  three  hundred  dollars." 

125 


Pedro  is  Missing 

"  We  are  Englishmen,  and  therefore  afraid  of  nothing. 
We  carry  pistols  enough  to  shoot  ten  men,  and  if  there  were 
a  dozen,  it  is  probable  the  two  others  would  run  away.  We 
are  on  our  way  to  Gibraltar,  and  if  anything  were  to  happen 
to  us,  the  governor,  who  of  course  expects  us,  would  imme- 
diately shoot  a  bomb-shell  over  La  Mancha  into  the  Cortes 
at  Madrid,  which  would  blow  up  all  the  Spains  in  one 
ruin." 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  you  talk  roundly  ;  but  we  know  the  English 
are  a  dangerous  people,  and  it  is  asserted  that  they  season 
their  ollas  with  gunpowder  instead  of  salt." 

Here  we  heard   voices   behind,  and   a  sound   of  horses' 
hoofs.     Our  companion  hailed  them  with  some  cry  which 
we  did  not  understand,  and  as  our  imaginations  were  pre- 
pared for  robbers,  we  took  it  for  a  signal,  and  concluded 
that  the  man  on  the  donkey  was  an  accomplice  sent  on  to 
reconnoitre.     We   therefore   had   our   pistols  ready.     Two 
men  on  a  white  horse,  emerging  from  the  darkness,  over- 
took us,  and  shortly  afterwards  another  horse,  also  with  two 
men  on  it,  came  up.     We  congratulated  one  another  on 
this  arrangement,  for  two  bodies  close  together  would  of 
course  be  much  easier  than  one  to  hit  in  the  dark.     How- 
over,  the  men  saluted  us  civilly,  and  fell  into  conversation 
with  our  companion.     They  were  coming  back  from  a  fair 
at  Alcala  de  Guadaira,  and  were  slightly  elevated.     Harry 
and  I  were  talking  to  one  another  in  English  about  the  pro- 
babilities of  thier  being  thieves  ;  and  it  is  a  sort  of  axiom 
with   the   lower    classes   here,  who  are  not  much  used   to 
foreigners,  that  people,  who  talk  to  one  another  in  a  lan- 
guage which  they  do  not  understand,  will  not  understand 
what  they  say  to  each  other  in  plain  Spanish. 

"  What  has  come  of  Pedro  that  he  does  not  return  with 
you  ?  "  said  the  man  on  the  ass. 

126 


Our  Profession 

"  Quien  sabe  !  probably  he  dances  v/hh  fandango." 

"According  to  my  view,"  said  one  of  the  men  on  the 
second  horse,  "  he  is  engaged  in  another  affair.  I  saw  him 
watching  a  horse-dealer  as  he  put  up  the  price  of  a  very 
pretty  chestnut  mare — sixty-three  dollars,  and  not  dear 
either  :  I  think  Master  Perrico  has  an  eye  to  the  gentle- 
man's purse." 

"Hush  !  these  strangers  may  overhear  you." 

"  By  no  means,  you  hear  their  tongue  is  not  the  same  as 
ours.  Gentlemen,"  he  continued,  addressing  us,  "  is  it 
long  that  you  travel  in  Spain  ?  " 

"  Three  months,  and  my  companion  three  weeks." 

"  Indeed,  so  little,  and  already  you  speak  a  few  words  of 
the  Castillian.  What  may  be  the  business  on  which  your 
worships  travel  ?  " 

"  We  are  portrait-painters,  very  much  at  your  service," 
replied  Harry. 

"  At  what  price  do  you  work  ? "  said  a  man  on  the  white 
horse,  which  was  a  little  ahead. 

"  From  three  reals  to  six,  according  to  the  size  ;  and  if 
the  work  of  art  does  not  give  satisfaction  to  the  sitter,  he 
can  leave  it,  and  pay  nothing." 

"  Carajo  !  that  is  an  exceedingly  honourable  way  of  deal- 
ing ;  and  if  these  gentlemen  do  not  leave  Utrera  very  early 
to-morrow,  I  will  have  my  picture,  and  give  it  to  my  wife, 
carajo  !  " 

"  We  are  entirely  at  the  disposition  of  your  worship,  for 
that  which  your  worship  may  please  to  command." 

In  such  discourse  we  began  to  see  distant  twinkling 
lights,  and  to  hear  the  chiming  bells  {/as  ani?nas\  which 
were  ringing  for  the  departed  souls  of  Utrera, — for  that  was 
the  place  on  which  we  had  stumbled  in  the  dark  on  our 
south-east   passage.     As  we    rode    up   the   long   straggling 

127 


Anxious  Inquiries 


street,  the  white  horse  stopped  before  a  house,  out  of  which 
came  two  women.  One  embraced  her  husband,  as  he  dis- 
mounted ;  the  other,  who  seemed  young  and  beautiful,  as 
far  as  the  dim  light  of  the  street  (which  only  came  from  a 
few  straggling  windows  and  stars)  allowed  us  to  judge, 
after  glancing  anxiously  about  among  the  horsemen,  ex- 
claimed,— 

"  Where  is  my  Pedro  ?  Why  have  you  not  brought  him 
back  to  me  !  " 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  carry  your  pet  hawk  on  my  wrist, 
pretty  Rosita  ? " 

"I  don't  know  what  can  be  the  matter  with  Rosa,"  said 
the  elder  woman,  "  she  has  been  moping  and  fretting  about 
her  Perrico  all  day." 

Here  we  said  good-night,  and  rode  on,  still  hearing  indis- 
tinctly through  the  thickening  veil  of  darkness  the  maiden's 
eager  tones  of  inquiry  after  her  lover.  It  was  evident  she 
had  felt  some  mournful  presentiment  of  his  fate,  which  we 
but  too  probably  connected  with  our  adventure  of  the 
dehesa.  We  went,  as  we  had  been  recommended,  to  the 
Posada  de  la  Spada  (Sword  Inn),  were  received  as  distin- 
guished guests,  supped  on  a  clean  tablecloth,  and  were 
recognised  by  the  ostler  in  the  stable,  when  we  went  to  see 
our  ponies  fed,  as  having  passed  a  year  ago.  This  we  did 
not  deny,  but  applauded  his  memory. 


128 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Moron,  February  27. 
The  reader  will  easily  imagine  we  did  not  wake  very 
early  next  morning.  I  had  sat  up  till  very  late  writing 
after  a  hard  day's  work.  We  both  awoke  suddenly,  and 
found  a  couple  of  carabineros  standing  at  the  foot  of  our 
beds.  We  started  up,  thinking  ourselves  arrested  ;  but  it 
appeared  they  had  only  come  to  inspect  our  passports,  which 
were  shown,  and  found  satisfactory.  Harry  handed  a  paper 
of  cigarillos  to  them  from  under  his  pillow,  and  they  began 
to  smoke. 

There  was  another  tap  at  the  door,  and  in  walked  a  tall, 
long-nosed,  bushy-whiskered  man,  with  sharp  eyes,  glancing 
rather  furtively  from  beneath  dark  shaggy  eyebrows.  We 
soon  recognised  him  by  his  voice  to  be  the  master  of  the 
grey  horse,  who  had  bespoken  a  portrait  over  night.  He 
begged,  with  a  profusion  of  politeness,  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  receiving  us  at  his  house,  which  was  entirely  at  our  dis- 
position, where  we  might  proceed  to  business.  He  seemed 
slightly  uneasy  in  the  presence  of  the  soldiers,  and  as  soon 
as  we  told  him  that  we  should  wait  upon  him  after  break- 
fast, he  decamped,  with  a  sort  of  half-slink,  half-swagger. 
When  he  was  gone,  one  of  the  soldiers  said, — 

"  May  I  be  pardoned  for  my  curiosity  in  inquiring  what 
business  your  worship  may  have  to  transact  with  that 
man?" 

129 


Our    Dreams 

"  Simply  to  take  his  portrait  in  water-colours,"  replied 
Harry.  "  You  see,  by  our  passports,  we  are  travelling 
artists  :  we  met  casually  on  the  road  last  night.  Is  there 
anything  against  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  not  exactly  against  him,  for  there  is  nothing 
proved  ;  but  he  is  shrewdly  suspected  of  having  a  hand  in 
two  or  three  murders,  and  a  dozen  robberies  or  so.  But  he 
is  sly — indeed,  he  may  be  said  to  know  some  few  points 
more  than  the  devil, — and  we  have  never  yet  been  able  to 
lay  our  hands  upon  him." 

With  this  the  carab'ineros  made  their  bows,  and  departed. 
Over  our  breakfast  we  compared  notes  on  our  dreams. 
Harry  had  been  taken  up  before  the  alcalde^  and  received 
sentence  of  death.  I  had  dreamed  that  Harry  was  shot, 
and  that  I  sat  by  his  body  watching  the  blood  come  bubbling 
out  of  a  round  wound  in  his  breast  so  fast,  that  the  whole 
dehesa  was  flooded,  and  turned  to  a  great  sea  of  blood  ;  and 
then  the  body  turned  into  an  island,  and  I  was  the  corpse 
lying  upon  it.  Though  I  was  dead,  and  in  a  very  ghastly 
state,  lying  stark  and  stiflF,  I  could  see  perfectly  well  that  a 
shallop,  with  a  gleaming  sail,  came  towards  me  over  the 

vermilion  sea,  and  I  lay  still,  knowing  that was  in  that 

shallop.  It  neared,  and  touched  the  rocks, — she  recognised 
the  corpse,  shrieked,  and  fell  into  the  sea.  I,  entirely  irre- 
spective of  my  social  position  as  an  inanimate  body,  started 
up,  and  dived  to  the  rescue,  in  which  inappropriate  act  I 
awoke. 

We  went,  after  breakfast,  to  our  respectable  friend's 
dwelling.  Harry  drew  him,  and  I  persuaded  the  mournful 
Rosita  to  let  me  take  her.  She  was  more  beautiful  than  we 
had  any  idea  of  in  the  dark  the  night  before — large,  deep, 
black,  flashing  eyes,  and  the  richest  mass  of  glossy  raven 
tresses.   The  fault  of  her  face  was  in  the  size  of  her  nostrils, 

130 


The  Robber's  Affianced 

and  a  somewhat  fierce  expression,  which  from  time  to  time 
flickered  about  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

She  was  sad  now,  mostly,  for  she  was  afraid  something 
had  happened  ;  but  now  and  then  a  thought  would  cross 
her  of  her  Pedro's  having  gone  to  visit  a  certain  Conchita, 
whom  she  usually  mentioned  by  the  uncomplimentary  nick- 
name "La  Zorra"  (the  she-fox).  She  talked  in  a  rambling 
sort  of  way,  everything  that  came  in  her  head  all  the  time 
I  was  drawing  her,  and  answered  all  the  questions  I  put 
with  perfect  freedom.  It  appeared  that  she  had  had  a  most 
severe  quarrel  with  Pedro  the  night  before  he  had  gone  to 
AlcaM,  and  after  it  had  dreamed  he  was  dead. 

While  I  was  colouring  the  portrait,  there  arose  a  sound 
of  voices  outside,  and  drew  nearer.  The  women  were  out 
in  a  moment,  and  we  followed.  Four  of  the  Guardia  Civil, 
with  a  horse,  were  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  men,  women, 
and  children.  All  were  eagerly  pressing  round  and  peeping 
under  the  gay  Valencian  manta  which  covered  the  horse's 
burden.  We  were  just  in  time  to  see  Rosita  dash  fran- 
tically through  the  crowd,  and  tear  oflF  the  manta. 

She  shrieked  with  a  more  terrible  cry  than  I  heard  in  my 
own  bloody  dream,  and  fell  among  the  horse's  feet.  The 
body  of  her  lover  was  slung  across  the  saddle,  with  its  head 
and  feet  dangling  on  either  side.  They  had  found  and 
recognised  the  body,  and  corded  it  over  the  horse's  back  ; 
but  the  stifFarms  and  legs  stuck  out  awkwardly  ;  and,  indeed, 
it  was  a  very  horrid  sight. 

In  the  hurry  and  dismay  of  our  host's  establishment,  we 
disappeared  unobserved,  and  as  we  had  not  been  paid,  we 
thought  it  no  robbery  to  carry  away  our  drawings. 

We  set  off  shortly  for  Arahal,  and  rode  by  an  old  con- 
vent, through  olive-groves,  until  we  came  to  a  bare,  arid, 
undulating  plain.     The  road  skirted  the  mountain  range  at 

131  J 


Calmness  is  Catching 

about  three  leagues'  distance.  We  rode  along,  conversing 
on  the  strange  romance  in  which  we  had  so  unforeseenly 
become  implicated,  and  congratulating  ourselves  that  we 
had  got  so  well  out  of  it. 

Getting  tired  of  the  monotony  of  the  road,  and  the 
uncomfort  of  our  rude,  straw-stufFed  pads,  we  dismounted, 
hobbled  our  ponies'  fore-legs  with  the  trabas  (a  soft  woollen 
bandage  in  the  manner  of  a  cow-tie),  and  sat  down  to  smoke 
by  the  wayside.  During  this  operation  Harry's  pony  tried 
to  roll,  and  broke  his  traba,  whereupon  he  calmly  observed, 
that  this  escape  would  probably  form  the  adventure  of  the 
day.  To  this  I  agreed  ;  but  suggested,  that  as  our  troubles 
and  trials  would  probably  come  soon  enough,  we  had  better 
finish  our  pipes  in  peace,  before  we  made  any  overt  demon- 
stration of  catching  the  little  beast.  This  apathetic  conduct 
turned  out  well ;  for  the  pony  soon  entangled  its  legs  in 
the  trailing  bridle-reins,  and  was  pounced  upon  by  his 
master.  We  continued  our  course  and  shortly  saw  Arahal, 
an  unremarkable  white  town,  on  a  slight  eminence.  Harry 
asked  me  how  far  I  thought  it  was,  and  I  guessed  it  about 
three  or  four  miles. 

"  It  is  further  than  that.  Do  you  see  that  turnip-field 
on  the  knoll,  which  is,  if  anything,  nearer  to  us  than  the 
town  ?  " 

"  Yes — very  plain." 

"  Well,  that  turnip-field  is  an  olive-garden,  and  the 
turnips  are  great  olive-trees," 

We  now  had  passed  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain  spur, 
and  behind  it  we  saw  a  town,  to  which  we  resolved  to  direct 
our  steps  as  soon  as  a  road  branched  oflF  to  the  right,  which 
we  surmised  could  not  be  long  ;  but  there  was  nothing  of 
the  kind  till  our  arrival  at  Arahal.  As  we  rode  up  the  hill 
into  the  town  the  sunset  was  gilding  the  ruined  arches  of 

132 


Arahal 

the  broken-down,  but  not  ancient,  church,  and  doing  its 
best  to  make  this  unpicturesque  place  as  pretty  as  possible  ; 
and  it  succeeded  very  well,  for,  after  all,  everything  depends 
on  the  light  you  see  it  in.  The  broad  valley  between  us 
and  the  mountain  range  was  all  filled  with  golden  splendour, 
which  burst  in  upon  us  through  gaps  in  the  straggling  street. 

We  got  to  the  posoda^  and  ordered  supper.  While  it 
was  cooking  we  studied  the  guide-book.  Here  we  dis- 
covered that  the  town  we  had  seen  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tains was  Moron,  a  celebrated  den  of  thieves  ;  and  that  the 
next  town  on  the  way  to  Ronda  was  still  worse,  no  other 
than  the  notorious  Olvera  mentioned  in  the  proverb — 
"  Mata  al  hombre  y  ve  te  a  Olvera  "  (kill  your  man  and  get 
you  to  Olvera)  ;  being  the  most  safe  and  congenial  refuge 
for  the  desperately  wicked,  which  Spain  could  afford.  How- 
ever, we  congratulated  ourselves  that  if  we  had  less  safety 
we  should  have  all  the  more  adventures.  At  supper,  being 
very  hungry,  we  ate  ravenously  of  fried  pork  :  which,  for 
want  of  a  sufficient  peptic  pause  before  going  to  bed,  gave 
me  an  indigestion,  and  made  me  quite  unable  to  eat  any 
breakfast  next  morning.  I,  however,  foreseeing  that  I 
might  be  hungry  further  on  in  the  day,  sallied  forth,  and 
bought  a  small  loaf,  a  few  oranges,  and  a  bit  of  Dutch 
cheese,  as  a  provision  for  the  way. 

We  were,  to  the  best  of  our  judgment,  over-charged  by 
the  host  of  the  posada  ;  and  when  we  made  our  indignant 
protest,  he  appealed  to  a  most  sinister-looking  personage 
with  one  eye,  whom  we  at  once  had  picked  out  of  the 
assembly  round  the  chimney  corner,  as  the  captain  of  a 
band  of  robbers.  This  impartial  umpire  at  once  took  the 
side  of  the  Senor  huespedy  and  I  thought  Harry  and  he 
would  have  come  to  blows.  In  the  end  we,  of  course,  had 
to  pay. 

133 


We  are  Worth   Many  a  Button 

As  we  were  departing,  the  bandit  captain  inquired  if  the 
buttons  (with  which  we  were  profusely  ornamented)  were 
silver,  and  this  settled  our  conviction  that  we  should  be 
waylaid  this  day,  if  any.  Everything  seemed  unlucky.  I 
felt  sick  and  ill  ;  and,  as  I  was  leading  my  pony,  which 
kicked  and  reared,  and  was  very  unruly,  out  of  the  market- 
place, my  alforjas  rolled  off  his  back.  A  man,  who  came 
forward  civilly  to  hold  it  on  again,  remarked  to  the  crowd 
how  heavy  it  was  ;  and  as  they  always  conclude  that  Eng- 
lishmen are  laden  only  with  precious  metals,  this  would, 
of  course,  afford  an  additional  incentive  to  the  marauders 
of  the  district.  We,  however,  had  all  our  pistols  ostenta- 
tiously displayed  in  our  fajas^  and  tried  to  look  as  fierce 
as  we  could,  in  hopes  they  might  think  us  dangerous. 

We  descended  the  hill  and  mounted.  So  full  were  we 
of  the  idea  of  robbers,  that  we  seriously  suspected  a  poor 
man,  with  a  donkey  laden  with  pipkins,  whom  we  overtook 
on  the  road,  of  being  in  some  way  or  other  implicated  in 
the  conspiracy  against  our  lives  and  property.  The  road 
across  the  valley  was  not  very  clear  at  best,  and  in  crossing 
a  puddly  stream  we  missed  it. 

After  wandering  about  some  time  we  came  in  sight  of  a 
miserable  hut  ;  hard  by  there  was  a  miserable  little  garden, 
and  in  the  garden  a  miserable  little  man,  hoeing  languidly. 
To  him  we  shouted,  but  got  no  reply  ;  as  I  felt  sure  he 
must  have  heard  us,  I  rode  up  in  great  wrath,  and  began  to 
upbraid  him  for  not  attending  when  he  was  spoken  to. 

Thereupon  he  left  his  cabbages  and  came  up,  looking  very 
timid,  half-witted,  and  sickly.  We  inquired  our  way  to 
Moron,  and  he  offered  to  put  us  in  it.  I,  seeing  he  was 
about  to  make  a  job  of  showing  us  the  way,  began  to  speak 
sharply  to  him  ;  but  Harry  said  he  was  evidently  a  poor 
wretch  on  whom  some  coppers  would  not  be  thrown  away, 


The  Most  Benevolent  of  Medicos 

and  we  had  better  let  him  show  us.  The  man,  seeing  he 
had  an  advocate  in  the  enemy's  ranks,  immediately  began  to 
beg,  and  to  state  a  very  piteous  case,  of  which  ague  and 
want  of  money  were  the  principal  ingredients. 

Harry  had  provided  himself  in  England  with  lots  of 
drugs  to  physic  the  barbarians,  and  here  was  a  case.  He 
immediately  jumped  off,  pulled  his  medicine  stocking  out  of 
the  alforjas,  and  began  studying  his  receipt-book  of  cottage- 
physic  and  cookery.  Making  a  desk  of  his  saddle,  he  stood 
turning  over  the  leaves.  "  How  to  make  suet  dumplings  !  " 
that  wouldn't  do.  "  A  good  receipt  for  brewing  beer  at 
threepence  a  gallon,"  &c.  ;  but  nothing  was  said  about  the 
proper  way  of  treating  tertian  ague.  Hereupon  I  was 
called  into  consultation,  and  I  suggested  that,  "  an  he  had 
never  tasted  blue-pill  before,  it  should  go  near  to  remove 
his  fit."  I  So  Harry  discharged  a  raking  fire  of  blue-pills 
upon  his  patient. 

"  But,"  said  the  poor  man,  "I  cannot  buy  your  remedies, 
for  I  have  nothing,"  and  he  seemed  greatly  distressed  by 
the  idea  of  losing  these  wonderful  little  bullets,  on  whose 
sovereign  merits  we  had  been  lecturing  him. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  said  Harry  ;  "  we  require  no  money 
from  those  who  have  none  ;  but  it  is  the  custom  of  English 
professional  men  to  cure  everybody  who  is  sick." 

"God  will  repay  your  worship,  most  benevolent  of 
medicos^''  said  the  invalid,  with  a  meek  and  lowly  reverence. 

I  added  two-pence  in  copper,  to  give  the  prescription  a 
flavour  of  sincerity,  for  I  thought  that,  perhaps,  upon 
reflection,  he  might  be  afraid  to  take  the  pills  from  unknown 
hands,  for  fear  they  might  prove  poison.  The  huge  blue- 
pill-box  was  replaced  in  the  stocking,  and  we  proceeded  by 
the  instructions  of  our  patient.  It  was  about  two  o'clock, 
'  "  The  Tempest." 


The  Moor  and  Cid  ' 

and  I  was  beginning  to  feel  hungry  and  weak,  having  been 
inwardly  deranged  all  the  morning. 

About  halfway  to  Moron  we  got  off  and  sat  in  a  ditch 
by  the  wayside  under  the  tall  green  spikes  of  the  aloe. 
Here  I  ate  some  of  my  loaf  and  cheese,  but  not  the  oranges, 
for  reasons  which  I  will  not  explain.  On  the  contrary,  I 
seasoned  the  simple  aqueous  contents  of  my  bottle  with 
fifteen  drops  of  laudanum,  which,  with  the  concurrence  of 
the  "  most  benevolent  of  medicos,"  I  ventured  to  prescribe 
for  myself. 

While  I  ate,  and  Harry  smoked,  my  pony  observed  a 
great  herd  of  horses  feeding  in  the  dehesa  at  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off.  He  got  his  feet  out  of  the  traba^  and  galloped 
away.  Harry  had  bought  a  new  one  at  Arahal  to  supply 
the  place  of  that  broken  the  day  before,  so  that  the  Cid  had 
to  follow  the  Moor  with  his  feet  tied,  for  the  new  hopple 
resisted  all  his  efforts.  He,  however,  managed  to  go  a  sur- 
prising pace,  much  quicker  than  Harry  could  run  after  him. 
I,  being  an  invalid,  lay  still  to  await  the  result,  and  of  course 
expected  to  be  attacked  in  Harry's  absence  on  the  model 
of  our  former  day's  sad  experience.  We  have  christened 
Harry's  pony  the  Cid,  and  we  intend  to  christen,  or  rather 
paganise,  mine  when  we  discover  the  name  of  the  Cid's 
principal  antagonist,  for  which  we  are  not  sufficiently 
extemporaneous  historians.  In  abeyance,  mine  is  pro- 
visionally invested  with  the  general  title  of  "  the  Moor," 
sometimes  Othello,  for  short. 

After  a  while,  Harry  returned  with  the  ponies.  He  had 
been  helped  to  catch  them  by  two  horse-herds,  who  were 
tending  the  flock  of  horses.  The  Moor  had  been  received 
with  kicks  and  bites  and  all  sorts  of  indignities  by  the 
society  with  whom  he  had  amiably  desired  to  be  better 
acquainted.     The   Cid,  who  was  an  older  hoof,   had  not 

136 


Moron 

galloped  so  confidently  into  the  fray.  We  proceeded,  and 
were  within  about  a  league  of  the  broad-topped  citadel  of 
Moron,  when  the  Moor  become  unruly  and  troublesome, 
and  in  the  little  misunderstanding  which  ensued,  my  saddle 
slipped  round  and  rolled  me  off.  The  bridle,  which  I  still 
held  in  my  hand,  also  slipped  off,  as  tugging  hard  with 
outstretched  nose  he  got  his  ears  squeezed  through  and 
galloped  away. 

Harry,  who  had  just  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  the 
ponies,  and  who  had  a  just  right  to  complain  of  my  manage- 
ment in  letting  the  little  beast  get  away  (for  I  had  lost  my 
temper  over  the  Moor's  troublesome  caperings,  and  laid 
about  his  head  and  ears  with  my  switch),  did  not  say  any- 
thing about  what  I  ought  or  ought  not  to  have  done,  but 
with  great  patience  and  good  humour  galloped  back  on  the 
Cid  after  the  runaway. 

I  carried  his  alforjas  and  mine  to  a  little  gully  in  the 
dehesa^  whence,  through  the  rustling  reeds  and  palmitas,  I 
could  see  the  ramparts  of  Moron.  I  wrote  my  journal,  and 
grubbed  up  what  I  supposed  to  be  a  palmita-root  with  my 
navaja  (clasp-knife). 

When  I  had  eaten  it,  I  found  by  the  top  that  it  was  a 
sort  of  lily,  which  might  be  rank  poison  for  anything  I 
knew  ;  for,  in  my  anxiety  to  get  at  the  root,  I  had  neglected 
to  examine  the  leaves,  which  bore  only  so  slight  and  general 
a  resemblance  to  those  of  the  palmita,  that  I  wondered  how 
I  could  have  been  so  stupid.  I  then  did  a  little  sketch  of 
Moron,  as  it  appeared  through  the  reeds,  which  carried 
me  on  without  impatience  to  Harry's  return  with  the 
ponies. 

We  rode  up  into  the  town,  which  is  quaint,  antique,  and 
compact,  and  got  to  the  Posada  de  los  Cab  alter  os^  a  very 
good   sample  of  a  queer  old  massive  posada.     The  stables 


An  Artistic  Proclamation 

were  a  dark,  low,  heavy-vaulted,  round-arched  sort  of 
cloister-crypt.  After  seeing  to  our  horses,  we  ordered 
dinner,  and  sat  waiting  for  it  in  a  long  deep  gallery 
(something  like  the  Rows  of  Chester),  which  ran  along  one 
side  of  the  crooked  little  courtyard. 

To  wear  away  the  time,  we  got  out  our  sketch-books,  and 
tried  to  get  the  crooked  angles,  and  nooks,  and  crannies  of 
the  tenement  into  perspective.  Apropos  of  the  sketch- 
books, I  delivered  from  the  gallery  a  neat  little  address  to 
the  courtyard,  informing  all  whom  it  might  concern  that 
we  were  celebrated  artists  from  London,  come  to  take  the 
portraits  of  the  beauty  and  valour  of  Moron,  at  from  three 
to  six  reals,  and  that  any  one  who  wished  to  have  a  portrait 
must  give  notice  over-night ;  otherwise,  we  should  depart 
early,  and  Moron  would  probably  never  again  enjoy  a 
similar  opportunity. 

We  dined  on  eggs  and  salad,  and  bread  fried  in  oil ;  then 
went  out,  and  turned  up  the  main  street,  which  rises  with  a 
gentle  slope  to  the  foot  of  the  castle-hill.  At  the  end  of 
the  street,  and  below  the  castle,  is  a  nice-looking  church, 
whose  tower  reminded  us  faintly  of  the  Giralda.  Thence 
the  ascent  of  the  mound  is  very  steep  climbing.  The 
castle  is  a  vast  ruin,  the  remains  of  a  Moorish  one  patched 
up  by  the  French,  who  occupied  Moron  three  years. 

The  sun  had  disappeared  before  we  got  to  the  top,  and 
the  faint  glow  of  the  western  sky  was  fading  rapidly  away 
on  the  spires  and  towers  of  the  town  below  us.  We  wan- 
dered round  the  lofty  ramparts,  which  commanded  on  one 
side  the  deep  blue  mass  of  mountains,  and  on  the  other, 
the  vast  expanse  of  undulating,  variegated  plains,  darken- 
ing away  to  where  the  Sierra  Morena  mingled  with  the  sky. 

Venus  came  forth  like  a  brilliant  afterthought  of  sun- 
shine, and  all  the  jewelled  company  of  heaven  appeared  in 

■38 


Sleeping  in  the  Saddle 

the  order  of  their  magnitudes  and  dignities  at  the  levee  ot 
their  radiant  queen.  The  dim  lamplight,  too,  began  to 
flicker  through  the  windows  of  the  town  below,  and  the 
night-winds  sighed  coldly  from  the  snowy  mountain-range. 

I  am  getting  sleepy,  and  must  go  to  bed, — that  is,  I  must 
lie  down  as  I  am,  wrapped  in  my  cloak,  on  a  complicated 
substitute  which  I  have  laid  together  on  the  floor.  The 
saddle  turned  upside  down,  and  eked  out  with  a  folded 
plaid,  forms  the  bed,  and  my  alforjas  the  pillow.  Good- 
night ! 

P.S. — In  spite  of  the  unpromising  preparations  I  de- 
scribed last  night,  I  slept:  well  till  near  daybreak.  Then, 
feeling  rather  cold,  I  got  up  and  shook  myself,  and  went 
down-stairs,  where  I  found  a  crowd  of  muleteers  lying 
about  in  the  court  on  their  manias.  I  got  the  great  archway- 
door  open,  and  went  up  to  the  castle  to  see  the  sun  rise. 

The  morning  was  cold,  as  I  sat  at  the  top  of  the  great 
tower,  while  Phosphor  faded  in  the  flushing  east  ;  and  the 
mountains,  peak  after  peak,  were  touched  with  amethyst 
lights,  while  the  baby  day  crept  along  the  plain.  And  at 
last  the  sun  arose  from  behind  the  mountain-range,  and 
cast  the  tall  shadow  of  Moron  across  the  land,  almost  to  the 
horizon  ;  but  as  the  chorus  of  all  the  cocks  grew  louder,  the 
shadow  shortened. 

So  I  went  down  and  gave  a  feed  of  barley  to  the  ponies, 
and  ordered  chocolate,  and  wrote  this  postscript.  Harry  is 
getting  up.  He  has  been  terribly  bitten  by  fleas.  He  had 
a  mattress,  which,  in  consideration  of  my  being  an  invalid, 
he  wanted  me  to  sleep  on  ;  but  I  liked  my  own  inventions 
better,  for  it  was  a  suspicious-looking  article.  Harry  is  so 
disgusted  with  the  fleas,  that  he  will  not  stop  here  to  paint 
a  customer  who  called  last  night  to  order  a  portrait.  The 
chocolate  is  ready. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

RoNDA,  March  i. 
Fairly  in  among  the  mountains.  In  among  the  toppling 
crags,  that  lean  with  rugged  elbows  on  the  brink  of  rushing 
mountain-streams, — and  glass  their  overhanging  brows  in 
dark  clear  pools, — and  dip  long-trailing  branches  down  to 
catch  the  floating  flakes  of  froth  that  slowly  sail  on  oily- 
dimpling  eddies  round  and  round. 

In  among  the  tall,  majestic  giantesses  of  the  prime,  who 
awfully  look  down  through  leagues  of  filmy  distance  on  the 
green  winding  valleys  and  ravines  of  the  fairy-land  they 
guard.  To  woo  them,  clouds,  those  vague  and  mournful 
bridegroom-ghosts,  exiled  from  their  native  ocean-plains, 
come  trooping  sullenly  before  the  shrill  host  of  tEoIus,  and 
here  find  refuge. 

Here  they  throw  their  long  pale  arms  around  the  stately 
maidens  of  the  Sierra,  on  whose  broad  bosoms  pillowed, 
they  weep  themselves  away.  They  perish,  but  leave  a  noble 
race  of  rivers  that,  in  the  pride  of  youth,  and  led  by  an  inborn 
instinct,  leap  joyously  down  to  the  sea.  There  they  enlist 
among  the  turbulent  billows,  that  clap  their  hands  with  a 
shout,  and  wrestle  with  the  blast,  till,  slain  by  a  treacherous 
smile  of  sunshine,  the  thin  and  vaporous  ghosts  are  dispersed 
and  driven  away  to  revive,  Anteus-like,  by  the  touch  of  their 
mother  earth. 

In  order  to   mislead  any  of  the  blood-hounds  who  might 

140 


Roderick  Dhu 

be  upon  our  track,  leaving  Moron,  we  inquired  for  Saucejo, 
and  set  off  by  the  map  and  the  sun's  guidance  for  Olvera, 
which  lies  in  the  contrary  direction.  We  left  the  Rosa 
Spur  to  the  right,  and  plunged  into  the  heart  of  the 
hills.  After  winding  in  and  out  and  up  and  down  rugged, 
and,  in  places,  almost  impassable  roads,  which  in  the 
metaphoric  idiom  of  the  country  are  called  caminos  de 
perdices^'^  freely  translated  "  paths  to  perdition,"  we  found 
ourselves  in  a  wild,  solitary,  picturesque  valley,  where  it 
was  often  difficult  to  distinguish  the  way  from  the  bed  of 
the  rivulet  by  which  it  ran. 

As  we  were  threading  our  way  with  cautious  steps,  among 
the  boulder  stones,  we  saw  a  cloaked  horseman  overtaking 
us.  As  he  came  near  we  saw  he  had  an  escopet  slung 
behind  his  saddle.  We  immediately  settled  that  he  was  the 
Roderick  Dhu  of  a  numerous  band,  and  expected  him  as  he 
approached  to  blow  his  bugle  and  raise  a  crop  of  bristling 
muskets  from  the  thick  brushwood  which  surrounded  us. 

He  turned  out,  on  nearer  inspection,  to  be  an  amiable 
young  squire  who  was  riding  to  overlook  a  farm  of  his 
father's,  called  "La  Gallina,"  after  which  this  beautiful 
valley  was  named.  I  gave  him  a  cigar  and  his  heart 
opened.  He  praised  our  ponies,  and  pressed  us  to  bait 
our  horses  and  descansar  (untire)  ourselves  at  his  farm. 
I  got  him  to  tell  me  the  names  of  the  various  beautiful 
and  fragrant  shrubs  which  clothed  the  vale  and  scented 
the  gale  ;  a  whole  family  of  barbarous  Arabic  botanical 
names,  such  as  retama,  lantico^  lechera^  tom'illo^  aelfa^  &c., 
which  I  took  down  in  my  pocket-book,  with  notes  for 
subsequent  descriptive  scenery. 

Our  friend  turned  off  to  his  farm,  where  the  valley 
widened    and  a    grassy    knoll    was    dotted    with    park-like 

'  Partridge  roads. 
141 


Ol 


vera 


trees,  a  striking  contrast  with  the  wilderness  surrounding 
it.  We  dived  down  a  ravine  which  seemed  most  in 
our  direction,  and  came,  after  much  rough  winding  work, 
upon  the  picturesque  venta  of  Zaframogon,  where  we  baited. 

We  rode  on  along  this  charming  valley,  which  had  now  a 
better  road.  Indeed,  we  had  missed  the  best  road  in  the 
morning,  and  had  been  struggling  through  inconvenient  but 
very  beautiful  by-paths  all  day.  On  a  green  hill  slope,  we 
saw  a  little  boy  and  a  bull-calf  playing  at  matador  and  toro 
to  an  audience  of  five  cows  and  a  cow-keeper.  The  boy  had 
a  stick  to  represent  a  sword,  and  as  the  calf  bobbed  at  him 
he  stepped  aside  and  poked  the  stick  at  his  shoulder.  The 
cowherd  seemed  much  interested,  and  alternately  cried, 
"  hravo  spada"  and  "  bravo  toro^"*  as  the  sword  or  bull  got 
the  best  of  it.     Oh,  seeds  of  bloodshed  sown  in  infancy  ! 

We  topped  a  high  level  of  mountain  road  and  saw  Olvera, 
a  pyramidal  group  of  spires  and  towers  crowned  with  a 
pointed  castle-rock.  It  seemed  much  nearer  than  it  was,  for 
about  half  a  league  brought  us  to  an  unforeseen  deep,  broad 
valley,  whose  sides  had  to  be  gone  down  and  up  before  we 
could  get  to  our  resting-place. 

The  flood  of  sunset  was  beginning  to  break  in  billows  of 
fire  over  the  ragged  sky-line  of  the  mountain  summits  as 
we  crossed  the  valley,  overtaking  troops  of  peasants  and 
donkeys  crowding  in  from  the  field  :  and  when  we  reached 
the  foot  of  the  long,  steep  ascent  into  Olvera,  there  must  have 
been  a  hundred  and  fifty  men,  women,  and  children,  to  climb 
the  hill  with  us.  The  road  ran  straight  up  the  mountain's 
flank,  from  which  the  stony  ribs  protruded.  Higher  and 
higher,  the  stony  excrescences  grew  larger  and  larger  ;  first 
as  big  as  waggons,  then  as  haystacks,  then  as  houses,  and  at 
last  churches. 

At  the  top  of  a  mile  of  steep  climbing,  the  straight  road 

142 


Works  of  Supper-Arrogation 

became  a  corkscrew-staircase-street,  winding  in  and  out 
among  the  huge-protruding  hulks  of  rock,  patched  here  and 
there  with  buildings,  which  seemed  in  comparison  as  small 
and  frail  as  cobwebs  in  a  quarry.  After  another  half  mile 
of  this  corkscrew  street,  still  steeper  than  the  road,  we  came 
to  the  market-place,  from  whence  we  saw  the  castled  crag 
still  towering  high  above  us.  However,  we  were  luckily  at 
the  end  of  our  day's  journey,  for  here  we  entered  the  Posada 
de  la  Plaza. 

It  was  choke  full  and  in  a  great  bustle.  The  stable,  more- 
over, was,  if  possible,  still  fuller,  and  indeed  two  mares  had 
to  be  turned  out  somewhere  else  to  make  way  for  our  ponies. 
My  little  black  stallion  made  a  tremendous  uproar  on  going 
into  the  stable  ;  and  in  passing  them  no  doubt  very  much 
shocked  the  nerves  of  the  unprotected  mares  who  were  so 
ungallantly  turned  out  for  his  accommodation.! 

I  gave  him  his  barley,  but  instead  of  eating  it  he  kept 
pawing  and  whinnying  over  the  sore  backs  of  some  peace- 
able decrepit  old  mules,  at  another  entero^  who  snorted  back 
contemptuous  defiance  in  return.  I  left  him  to  go  and  pro- 
vide our  own  supper  ;  and  after  my  manner  when  I  am 
hungry  and  impatient,  began  to  order  everybody  about  in  a 
great  hurry,  speaking  with  much  authority. 

The  landlady  seemed  impressed  with  the  necessity  of 
making  an  effort  towards  getting  our  supper  ready,  but  the 
landlady's  son,  who  acted  also  in  the  capacity  of  mo'z.o  de  la 
cuadra  (ostler),  set  up  his  bristles  and  said,  "  Who  is  this 
man  in  the  garments  of  a  muleteer  who  gives  himself  the 
airs  of  a  gran  duque^  that  the  suppers  of  all  our  guests  should 
be  postponed  for  the  convenience  of  his  belly  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  English  gentleman,  and  hungry — therefore, 
though  the  sun  and  moon  and  all  the  planets  were  brought 
to  a  stand,  I  must  have  my  supper,  and  that  presently." 

143 


A   Fellow  Countryman 

"  An  English  gentleman  !  that  alters  the  case  greatly.  I 
judged  by  his  lordship's  accent  in  speaking  the  Castilian 
(which,  by  the  way,  his  lordship  speaks  perfectamente)^  that 
his  lordship  was  an  Italian.  His  lordship  will  be  glad  to 
hear  that  there  are  two  of  his  countrymen  arrived  here  this 
evening  :  another  lord  of  Gibraltar  similar  to  his  lordship, 
attended  by  a  pretty  young  gentleman,  who  shall  perchance 
be  brother  to  his  excellency.  They  have  a  supper  in  pre- 
paration, muy  rico  (very  rich),  partridges  and  rabbits,  with 
a  dish  of  eggs  and  bacon  ;  there  will  be  well  enough  for  all 
four,  and  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  your  lordships  to  sup  with 
your  countrymen." 

He  did  not  wait  to  hear  what  I  had  begun  to  grumble 
about  my  having  seen  a  considerable  number  of  English  in 
my  time,  and  indeed  the  mention  of  partridges  and  rabbits 
almost  balanced  that  natural  antipathy  which  an  English- 
man usually  feels  to  encountering  another  Englishman  any- 
where, but  especially  abroad. 

My  eye  naturally  followed  the  now  obsequious  mo%o  as  he 
elbowed  through  the  crowd  towards  a  dark  recess  in  the 
chimney-corner.  I  felt  sure  there  would  be  some  awkward- 
ness from  the  exceedingly  vicious  principle  on  which  our 
self-constituted  ambassador  was  about  to  act — viz.,  that 
Englishmen  meeting  with  one  another  in  a  far  country 
must  be  glad  to  see  one  another  and  eat  at  the  same  table. 
Therefore,  feeling  that  it  was  better  to  be  impudently  than 
bashfully  intrusive,  I  followed  up  my  corps  diplo7natiqus^ 
and  emboldened  also  by  hunger,  approached  the  awful 
strangers. 

The  mo'Lo  had  stopped  on  the  great  hearth  to  rake  up 
some  embers  which  smouldered  dimly  round  a  huge  rooty 
log  something  of  the  size  and  shape  of  a  sheep  (and,  indeed, 
with    the    heterogeneous   company  of  sticks  around   it,  it 

144 


We  Fraternize 

reminded  me  of  Isaac  and  the  ram  caught  in  the  thicket), 
and  was  giving,  in  a  sort  of  casual  manner,  an  account  of 
cur  arrival.  Meanwhile  the  twigs,  which  did  not  under- 
stand being  raked  at  for  nothing,  took  fire,  and  by  the  blaze 
I  saw  the  little  group  in  the  corner. 

A  tall,  lathy,  good-looking  man  of  five-and-twenty,  dressed 
in  the  dark  zamarra  (lamb's-wool  jacket)  and  black-leathered 
riding  trowsers,  black  ixYk-faja^  and  a  jaunty  calanih  of  the 
last  fashion,  sat  smoking  the  cigarilla  of  patience,  and 
watching  a  stout  earthen  jar  among  the  embers  before  him. 
His  companion,  who  fully  came  up  to  the  mozo^s  descrip- 
tion, as  "a  very  pretty  young  gentleman,"  seemed  about 
fifteen. 

He  was  apparently  wearied  with  the  day's  journey,  and 
leaned  with  his  glossy  auburn  curls  spread  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  other,  who  held  him  tenderly  with  an  arm  round  his 
waist,  and  now  and  then  blew  away  the  smoke,  and  peeped 
down  into  the  innocent,  sleepy  face.  He  seemed  to  take 
very  little  notice  of  the  garrulous  relation  of  the  rnozo. 
However,  at  length  he  cast  his  eyes  across  the  blaze,  and 
our  glances  met. 

"  Adios,    Seiior  A ;  m'alegro  muchissimo   de  ver  a 

Vmd.,"  said  I,  for  I  saw  it  was  no  other  than  A ,  who 

was  a  great  friend  of  mine  at  Cambridge,  though  I  have 
seen  very  little  of  him  since. 

"  Adios,  Seiior,"  he  replied  in  Spanish  ;  "  tambien 
m'alegro  yo,  pero  francamente  no  m'acuerdo  de  Vmd.  : 
tampoco  sabre  como  Vmd.  conoce  mi  apellido." 

"  Tuve  el  gusto  de  pasar  dos  o  tres  afios  de  mi  vida  con 
Vmd.  en  la  universidad  de  Cantabrigia  y  me  llamo  Jorge 
Juan  Cayley." 

At  this  he  started  and  laughed  so  loud  that  the  sleepy 
boy  started  up,  and  we  shook  hands  over  the  fire.     At  this 

145 


A  Situation 

moment  Harry  came  up,  too,  who  was  also  a  great  friend  of 
his.  Amid  the  general  ebullition  of  cordiality,  the  mo%o^ 
who  had  almost  despaired  of  establishing  any  sort  of  rela- 
tions, but  now  concluded  that  his  representations  had  sud- 
denly taken  effect,  conceived  it  a  fit  time  to  effect  a  coalition 
of  suppers.     His  suggestions  were  at  once  agreed   to,  and 

in    the    meantime    A introduced    to    us    his  younger 

brother,  Juanito,  who  blushed  and  shook  hands — very  soft 
hands,  more  like  a  lady's  than  a   boy's.     But  I  was  busy 

asking  A fifty  questions,  and  took  no  notice  of  that  or 

the  blush,  and  went  on. 

"  Why,  I  thought  you  were  to  have  been  married  to  the 
lovely  Lady  Jane  before  this.  I  heard  it  was  to  be  in 
November  for  certain." 

"  So  I  was ;  but  she  had  the  scarlet-fever,  poor 
child." 

"  And  so  you  left  her  to  recover  at  her  leisure,  while  you 
travel  about  to  amuse  yourself !  " 

"  Not  exactly, — but  they  are  dishing  up  the  olla^  so  let 
us  to  supper  !  " 

We  supped  in  a  spacious  apartment  upstairs,  whose  walls 
were  hung  with  frying-pans  and  gridirons,  and  other 
utensils  of  cookery.  On  inquiry,  we  were  informed  by  the 
handmaid,  that  in  the  summer  families  come  here  from 
Ronda  ;  for  it  appears,  that  when  the  inhabitants  of  the 
sultry  plains  are  baked  out  of  their  cities,  and  come  to 
Ronda  for  fresh  mountain-breezes,  the  inhabitants  of  Ronda 
retreat  to  a  still  loftier  level,  and  this  is  then  used  as  their 
kitchen. 

It  came  out,  ia  the  course  of  the  meal,  as  the  superior 
perspicacity  of  my  reader  may  have  anticipated,  that  Master 
Juanito  (who  had  got  into  a  great  perplexity  under  cross- 
examination  about  Eton,  whence  he  was  said  lately  to  have 

146 


I 


Something  Romantic 

emerged,  but  of  which  seat  of  learning  he  seemed  to  have 
preserved  very  limited  and  equivocal  recollections)  turned 
out  to  be  no  young  gentleman  at  all,  and,  by  w^ay  of  explana- 
tion, was,  to  his  great  confusion,  introduced  to  us  as  Lady 
Jane  A . 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  A ,  "Johnny,  like  most  other  new- 
married  young  ladies,  had  a  strong  desire  to  travel,  and  do 
something  strictly  romantic.  I,  who  had  observed,  in  the 
course  of  my  European  experience,  the  misery  and  bother 
of  trailing  about  a  cumbersome  train  of  serving-men  and 
women,  immediately  laid  it  down  as  an  irrefragable  axiom 
that  nothing  romantic  could  possibly  be  done  with  a  courier 
and  lady's-maid. 

"I  thought  this  would  be  final,  and  that  we  should  have 
gone  down  home  and  improved  the  place,  which  has  been 
a  good  deal  neglected  during  my  long  minority.  I  laid  out 
a  pretty  little  programme,  in  which  I  was  to  figure  as  the 
gay  backwoodsman,  and  Johnny  was  to  come,  stealing  like 
a  sunbeam  in  among  the  crowded  boles,  to  surprise  me  with 
a  nice  little  napkin-basket  of  sandwiches  and  grapes ;  and 
sit  on  mossy  mounds,  singing  '  Woodman,  spare  that  tree,' 
while  I  thinned  the  timber  ;  which,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is 
sadly  choked  up. 

"But  Johnny  (who  is  getting  a  little  wiser  now  from  sad 
experience,  poor  young  man  !)  at  that  time  infinitely  pre- 
ferred romance  to  reality.  She  observed,  with  some  show 
of  plausibility,  that  she  could  do  without  her  maid  very  well 
(now  that  her  bonny  brown  hair  had  been  cut  short  in  that 
cruel  scarlet  fever) ;  that  is,  if  I  could  fasten  her  dress.  Now, 
if  there  is  a  strong  point  in  my  character,  it  is  an  inherent 
aptitude  for  fastening  hooks  and  eyes,  especially  in  a  small 
cabin,  where  there  is  no  room  for  one's  elbows,  and  in  a 
rough   sea.     I,   therefore,  had  my  little  shrimp  of  a  yacht 

147  K 


By  Sea  and  Land 


got  ready,  and  we  prepared  to  do  something  romantic,  upon 
the  corsair  model,  in  the  Mediterranean." 

"  But  where  have  you  left  the  yacht  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  it  had  been  possible,  I  ought  to  have  landed 
my  Princess  Dorothea-Micomicoma  at  Osuna ;  but  as 
Osuna  is  among  the  inland  mountains,  it  could  not  be 
accomplished.  After  we  had  seen  Lisbon,  and  Cadiz,  and 
Gibraltar,  we  put  in,  in  stress  of  weather,  into  the  deep- 
sheltered  rock-basin  of  Carthagena.  Here  we  went  ashore  ; 
and  Johnny  was  so  struck  with  the  gay  costumes — which  are 
certainly  more  picturesque  there  than  anywhere  else, — that 
she  must  needs  get  fitted  out,  as  you  see,  in  all  the  colours  of 
the  rainbow ;  and  a  nice  respectable  dress  it  is  for  an  amiable, 
interesting  young  gentleman  of  sober  taste  and  discretion. 
Well  !  after  a  masquerade  or  so  in  the  little  cabin,  with 
myself  and  the  cracked  looking-glass  for  audience,  she  was 
so  much  delighted  with  herself,  that  she  thought  it  a  pity 
not  to  exhibit  herself  to  all  the  Spains  ;  so  I  was  forced  to 
buy  a  couple  of  mules,  and  we  have  "been  on  the  tramp  ever 
since." 

So  far  from  taking  the  part  of  this  cruel  and  perverse 
husband,  we  very  much  applauded  what  Lady  Jane  had 
done,  and  inquired  if  the  expedition  had  proved  satisfactory. 
She  said  it  was  charming,  and  she  was  quite  ready  to  ride 
all  over  the  world.  They  had  ridden  by  Murcia,  Lorca,  and 
Guadix  to  Granada. 

"  The  principal  romance  of  the  journey  was  at  Baza, 
where  the  posaderos  pretty  daughter  made  most  serious 
love  to  Master  Johnny,  so  that  the  young  lady's  mvio  was 
terribly  jealous,  and  I  thought  there  would  have  been  blood- 
shed ;  for,  though  you  would  hardly  imagine  it  of  the  young 
man,  now  he  is  so  mild  and  modest,  after  being  found  out, 
he  then,  when  his  imposture  was  unsuspected,  played  the 

148 


The  Demonio  in  the  Stable 

successful  lover  with  a  most  theatrical  and  coxcombical 
swagger,  pointing  also  his  discourse  with  many  appropriate 
expletives,  of  whose  meaning  he  is  wholly  unaware,  but 
which  he  has  learnt  on  the  road  to  introduce  with  great 
effect  in  the  genteel,  school-room  Spanish  which  he  brought 
out  with  him.  From  Granada  we  are  on  our  way  to 
Seville  ;  to-day  we  left  Ronda.  You  are  now  in  posses- 
sion of  our  history,  and  we  have  a  fair  right  to  your 
adventures." 

When  we  had  lit  our  cigars,  and  Lady  Jane  had  conde- 
scended to  accept  a  very  thin  little  cigarillo^  which  Harry 
made  up  for  her,  I  proceeded  to  narrate  our  adventure  of 
the  dehesa^  and  was  in  the  most  palpitating  part  of  it,  when 
the  mozo  came  up  in  a  flurry  from  the  stable,  and  said  that 
my  pony  had  broken  his  halter,  and  was  fighting  furiously. 
I  left  Harry  to  finish  off  the  story,  and  went  down  in  among 
a  great  crowd  of  horses,  and  mules,  and  asses.  My  little 
demonio  had  broken  away,  and  gone  to  his  principal  enemy, 
a  large  black  entero^  who  was  luckily  tied  up  rather  tighter, 
or  else  he  would  probably  have  killed  the  little  ninny  before 
I  got  there.  The  traba  was  fortunately  fast  on  the  latter's 
fore-legs.  There  they  were,  snorting,  and  whinnying,  and 
biting,  and  trying  to  strike  one  another  with  their  fore- 
feet. 

The  Moor,  at  last,  got  his  manacled  hands  into  a  high 
manger,  to  which  his  enemy's  head  was  tied,  and  had  some 
difficulty  in  getting  them  out  again.  At  this  conjuncture  I 
rushed  in  among  the  fray,  and  getting  hold  of  the  remains 
of  the  broken  halter  round  his  neck,  pulled  him  down,  and 
drew  him  struggling,  and  kicking,  and  rearing  with  great 
vehemence,  back  to  his  own  barley,  and  tied  him  up  very 
tight  between  a  pacific  mule  and  the  Cid. 

Soon  after  I  went  up-stairs  again    the  party  broke  up. 

149 


The  Sketches 

A  broad  mattress  was  laid  where  the  table  had  been  ;  we 
rolled  ourselves  in  our  cloaks,  turning  the  esclavlna  (cape) 
over  our  heads,  then,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  mattress, 
we  fell  back  like  tragic  heroes,  so  as  not  to  unswaddle  our 
feet  in  lying  down.  We  were  considerably  eaten  by  fleas. 
Harry  next  morning  counted  forty-two  separate  bites  on  one 
knee. 

Accordingly,  we  got  up  at  sunrise,  and  while  our  choco- 
late was  being  made  ready  investigated  the  little  level 
ground  at  the  top  of  the  rock-city,  where  there  is  a  large 
building  that  contains  a  church,  a  town  hall,  and  a  school, 
apparently  once  a  convent.  It  forms  the  massive  mural 
crown  of  the  pyramid.  We  ascended  the  castle  still 
higher  up,  and  had  a  fine  view  of  mountain-tops.     On  our 

return,  breakfast  was  ready,  and  the  A s  stirring.     We 

breakfasted  together,  and  after  breakfast  sketched  the  castle 
apex,  which,  from  the  other  side  of  the  plaza^  appeared  high 
above  the  potadds.  roof.  Here  fifty  or  sixty  inhabitants 
gathered  to  observe  the  performance.  Lady  Jane  made  a 
very  nice  drawing,  and  we  a  couple  of  very  nasty  ones. 
The  spectators  exclaimed  with  wonder  and  delight,  when 
el  johen  (the  young  man)  put  in  what  they  called  Mxs  golpes 
de  maestro  (master-strokes),  and  kept  telling  one  another, 
"  There  is  Juliana's  chimney  !  That  is  the  roof  of  Pedro's 
stable  ! "  &c. 

We  said  good-bye  to  the  A s,  regretting  much  that 

our  routes  lay  in  opposite  directions.  Down  the  other  side 
of  Olvera,  and  up  over  a  long  bare  hill, — so  bare  that  there 
was  not  anywhere  a  scrub  to  cut  a  switch  out  of,  and  we 
were  about  to  make  a  rush-whip,  when  we  found  a  heap  of 
vine-cuttings  for  firewood  by  a  hut  on  the  roadside.  After 
a  while  we  came  to  a  cortijo  (farmstead)  picturesquely 
perched  on  a  rock.     Here  we  learnt  that  we   had  missed 


Anticipation 


our  way,  as  usual,  and  were  going  to  Alcala  de  la  Calle 
instead  of  Setenil. 

As  we  began  to  climb  a  very  long  and  steep  mountain- 
flank,  a  slight  shower  came  on.  Looking  back,  we  saw  a 
most  striking  atmospheric  effect.  A  great  shaft  of  sunshine 
streamed  through  the  broken  clouds  upon  Olvera's  fairy- 
palace-crowned  pinnacle,  which  gleamed  transparent  through 
a  spangled  robe  of  showers,  girt  with  the  rainbow  for  a 
baldrick. 

Having  stumbled  on  these  remarkable  places  by  accident, 
and  without  any  particular  recommendation,  we  naturally 
concluded  that  the  whole  mountain  region  was  full  of 
such.  What,  then,  must  Ronda  be  herself,  the  queen  of 
them  all  ? 

Of  course,  we  conceived  that  the  approach  to  this  city  of 
refuge  for  the  smuggler, — this  massive  ganglion  of  the 
rugged  and  inaccessible  paths  of  contraband  traffic, — this 
lofty-perched  eyrie  of  desperados,  would  lead  us  by  inter- 
minable staircase-roads  up  precipitous  zig-zag  ledges  to  a 
fortress-crested  city,  terraced  in  and  out  among  the  jags  and 
chasms  of  the  rock. 

But  this  is  not  the  case.  We  rode  along  some  wooded 
table-land  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  we  had  climbed,  and 
after  awhile  found  Alcala  in  a  dip — a  dismal,  poor,  wintry, 
greystone  village.  Here  we  baited.  On  our  way  to  Ronda 
we  met  with  nothing  remarkable,  except  a  board  which  set 
forth  that  a  caballero  had  there  been  killed  by  a  fall  from 
his  horse.  The  spot  seemed  eminently  appropriate, — a 
rocky,  sudden  drop  in  the  road,  which,  if  the  road  had  been 
the  bed  of  a  torrent,  would  have  made  a  picturesque  little 
waterfall.  We  rode  down  it  carefully,  and  without 
accident. 

It  began  to  rain,  and  we  put  on  our  cloaks,  which  are 

151 


Ronda 

inconvenient  heavy  things  to  ride  in,  though  they  certainly 
keep  one  dry  ;  we  were  rather  impatient  to  get  to  Ronda 
before  the  day  ended,  and  were  trotting  briskly  on,  when 
Harry's  pony  fell,  and  he  and  his  beast,  all  enveloped  in  a 
voluminous  mass  of  cloak,  rolled  among  the  sand  and  stones. 
I  expected  to  have  to  put  up  another  board  ;  but  he  got  up, 
and  was  no  worse. 

Still,  Ronda  did  not  appear,  which  seemed  distressing,  as 
we  could  now  see  a  league  and  more  before  us,  and  there  was 
nothing  but  a  great,  blank,  round-backed  ordinary  hill,  over 
which  our  road  lay  ;  and  beyond  which,  from  the  nature  of 
the  ground,  Ronda,  such  as  we  fancied  Ronda,  could  not 
possibly  be.  After  an  hour's  riding  we  got  over  the  bleak 
round  hill,  and  descended  a  gentle  slope  into  a  straggling 
unremarkable  town,  which  might  have  been  a  suburb  of 
Bradford.  Very  much  disgusted,  we  rode  down  the  long 
sloping  street,  and  came  to  the  Cristobal  Posada.  Here 
we  put  up,  and  supped  and  grumbled. 

The  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  broad  moon  was  rising  like 
a  great  fire-balloon  above  the  mountains,  the  silver  of  her 
beams  frosted  on  the  snowy  summits  around.  We  went 
out,  for  it  was  cold  and  wretched  in  the  posada^  and  came  to 
the  edge  of  a  very  deep  precipice,  which  falls  off  like  a 
tremendous  sunk  fence  from  the  lower  end  of  the  new 
town.  We  discovered  the  celebrated  bridge,  and  looked 
down  through  gratings  upon  a  dizzy  depth  of  darkness, 
where,  in  the  indistinct  abyss,  a  rushing  of  waters  echoed. 

The  view  from  the  bridge,  if  we  had  come  upon  it  in  a 
state  of  mind  unembittered  by  previous  disappointment, 
might  have  struck  us  very  favourably  ;  for  the  roaring  chasm 
beneath,  the  broad  shadowy  valley,  sunk  six  hundred  preci- 
pitous feet  before  us,  and  the  moonlit  snow  mountains 
beyond,  formed,  no  doubt,  a  tolerable  combination  in  their 

152 


Previous  Eulogy  Ensures  Detraction 

way.  But  we  had  made  up  our  minds  to  be  sulky,  and 
growled  at  the  whole  affair  ;  saying  that  the  chasm  was  no 
better  than  Knaresborough,  and  the  torrent  a  mere  fiz  and 
gush  of  soda  water. 


153 


CHAPTER   XV 

We  stayed  three  days  in  Ronda — descended  into  the 
chasm — sketched  the  flight  of  Moorish  mills  (through 
which,  one  after  another,  the  headlong  torrent  plunges  down 
into  the  valley),  and  the  high  and  heavy  freestone  bridge 
which  joins  the  cleft-rock  summits  on  which  stand  the  old 
and  new  town. 

There  are  certainly  some  "  cleverish  "  precipices  here- 
about. From  the  bluffs  at  the  edge  of  the  new  town  one 
can  throw  a  stone  down  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  into  the 
valley.  One  day,  I  was  kneeling  with  my  face  over  the 
edge  to  set  off  paper  parachutes,  when  both  my  pistols 
slipped  out  of  my  fa ja,  and  clashed  on  the  rock,  within  a  few 
inches  of  the  brink.  They  did  not,  luckily,  go  over,  for  I 
grabbed  them  in  the  nick  of  time  ;  but  it  quite  gave  me  a 
turn,  and  I  gave  up  letting  off  paper  parachutes  for  fear  of 
tumbling  over  myself. 

The  day  before  we  left,  we  felt  a  desire  for  meat,  which 
we  had  not  eaten  for  some  time,  living  on  eggs  and  choco- 
late and  salad.  We  sallied  forth  to  the  shambles.  It  was 
late,  and  we  only  found  one  old  woman.  She,  however,  had 
a  whole  sheep,  lately  killed.  We  got  a  choice  cut,  which 
Harry  carried  off  under  his  cloak  in  his  fingers  ;  while  I 
went  to  the  vegetable  market  over  the  bridge,  and  bought 
half  a  peck  of  potatoes.  The  latter  I  sliced  thin  with 
my  dagger,  while  he  haggled  the  mutton  into  tatters.     He 

154 


An  Advantageous   Opening 

subsequently  officiated  over  the  frying-pan  in  a  most 
artistic  manner,  but  the  mutton-steaks  turned  out  lament- 
ably tough. 

I  made  acquaintance  with  a  gun-maker,  at  whose  shop  I 
loitered.  He  admired  my  pistols.  The  conversation  turned 
on  engraving,  and  I  gave  him  an  extempore  specimen  of  my 
execution  in  that  department,  on  a  copper  coin.  He  said  he 
could  not  engrave  so  well,  nor  was  there  any  one  in  Ronda 
who  could  :  he  showed  me  some  of  his  own  handiwork, 
which  was  of  a  very  rude  character.  He  took  me  to  be  a 
professional  man,  and  hinted,  that  if  I  would  work  for  him, 
I  might  make  a  decent  livelihood  ornamenting  the  locks  of 
muskets.  He  seemed  a  very  good  sort  of  man,  and  had  a 
pretty  daughter. 

Riding  away  from  Ronda,  it  appeared  much  more  to 
advantage  than  we  had  ever  seen  it  before.  The  old  town 
stands  compactly  on  a  moundy  hill,  behind  which  the  new 
town  is  only  seen  crowning  the  edges  of  the  precipice  ;  and 
anybody  who  wants  to  be  enthusiastic  about  Ronda,  ought 
to  enter  it  by  the  way  we  left  it.  From  Ronda  the  road 
rose  a  good  deal,  and  we  got  among  the  snow.  Losing  our- 
selves, according  to  custom,  and  scrambling  along  a  very 
rocky  little  track  which  skirted  the  brow  of  one  of  the 
highest  mountains,  a  vista  opened  downwards  through  the 
peaks,  and  there  stood  "  the  Rock,"  at  about  forty  miles 
distance.  The  straits  of  Gibraltar  looked  like  a  great  blue 
river,  over  whose  further  bank  arose  the  snowy  mountains 
of  Africa. 

However,  we  were  evidently  in  the  wrong  road,  in  which 
impression  we  were  confirmed  by  a  not  very  lucid  peasant, 
who  could  not  clearly  explain  which  was  the  right  way. 
Another  peasant  came  up,  who  said  he  was  going  in  our 
direction.     We    followed    his   guidance   down    by   horribly 

155 


Valley  of  the  Xenar 

narrow  paths  along  precipice-ledges,  into  a  valley  which  had 
no  road  to  speak  of,  except  the  bed  of  the  Xenar,  but  the 
scenery  was  very  beautiful.  On  inquiring  whether  people 
ever  came  that  way  from  Gibraltar,  he  said  he  had  come 
that  way  sometimes  on  smuggling  expeditions. 

At  one  time  we  thought  he  was  leading  us  into  a  trap, 
when  he  was  hailed  by  a  party  of  men  with  guns  sitting  on 
the  hill  above  us.  We  were  not  robbed,  and  parted  with 
him  amicably,  giving  him  a  cigar  and  some  copper  coins. 
At  a  mill,  by  his  parting  directions,  we  went  up  a  very 
steep  zig-zag  path  into  the  mountains  ;  and  some  time  after 
crossed  a  very  deep  valley,  and  climbed,  about  sunset,  hot 
and  breathless,  into  a  picturesque  village  on  the  opposite 
hill-brow. 

As  we  went  up  the  steep  winding  street  of  the  village, 
some  women  asked  us  eagerly  what  wares  we  brought,  and 
seemed  disappointed  that  we  had  only  materials  to  make 
portraits.  Near  the  summit  of  the  place  stood  a  shabby  old 
posada.  The  stable  was  entered  by  a  door  lower  down  the 
hill,  but  the  communication  between  it  and  the  posada  was 
by  a  flight  of  steep,  mossy  stone  steps,  which  emerged  on 
the  higher  level  of  the  court-yard,  like  the  mouth  of  a  well. 
We  had  some  miga  ^  and  chocolate,  and  fried  eggs,  sitting  in 
the  deep-niched  window  of  a  large  vaulted  room  with  arched 
alcoves,  whose  nooks  and  angles  took  picturesque  lights  and 
shadows  in  the  fading  hues  of  sunset. 

While  we  were  eating,  we  heard  a  step  at  the  door,  and 
in  walked  a  serious-looking  visitor,  with  shaggy  grey  hair  ; 
he  said  nothing,  but  stood  gazing,  motionless,  with  long 
down-dropped  ears,  for  he  was  a  donkey.  He  was  shortly 
discovered  by  the  daughter  of  the  house,  who  was  waiting 

'  Miga  is  made  of  bread-crumbs,  damped  and  salted,  and  fried 
in  oil. 

156 


El  Hornipipo 


upon  us  ;  she  instantly  flapped  a  dishclout  in  his  placid, 
pensive  countenance,  and  he  retired  without  further  demon- 
stration of  his  feelings  than  slightly  shaking  his  ears. 

After  supper,  when  it  was  dark,  we  sat  by  the  crackling 
kitchen-fire.  The  medico  of  the  place  (Ben  el  Aurin)  had 
dropped  in  to  smoke  his  cigar  by  the  fire.  He  was  rather 
a  prosaic  and  sententious  personage,  who  had  been  in  Russia 
with  Napoleon.  He  inquired  about  London,  which  he  had 
understood  was  "  not  so  large  as  Paris,  and  that  it  was  all 
pedazos  (disjointed  fragments),  and  mixed  up  with  the  sea." 
The  women  requested  to  hear  us  speak  English,  and  then 
said,  "  that  it  was  a  language  which  nobody  could  under- 
stand, not  even  the  birds.  There  were  Englishmen  came 
now  and  then  from  Gibraltar  ;  there  was  Don  Jos6,  a  man 
of  great  wealth  and  dignity,  he  spoke  very  clear  ;  he  came 
for  shooting  in  the  mountains  with  his  son  ;  he  was  a 
sastre  (tailor)  at  Gibraltar.  There  were  English  came 
through  sometimes  who  could  not  speak  clear  at  all." 

It  was  evident  they  had  no  idea  of  another  language  than 
Spanish  in  the  world,  only  that  some  nations  spoke  it  very 
unintelligibly.  The  daughters  wanted  to  know  if  there  was 
any  dancing  in  our  country.  We  told  them  that  our  nation 
had  no  taste  or  genius  for  dancing,  and  never  invented  a 
national  dance  of  its  own  except  the  hornpipe,  which  they 
were  ashamed  to  dance  in  the  first  society,  preferring  to 
imitate,  in  a  limp  and  spiritless  manner,  the  dances  of 
foreign  countries,  for  to  dance  with  much  energy  or  grace 
was  in  England  thought  muy  or  dinar  io  (very  vulgar). 

They  wished  to  see  the  hornipipo  danced,  and  one  of  the 
fashionable  dances  to  compare  it  with  ;  so  I  danced  what  I 
knew  of  a  college  hornpipe,  eking  it  out  with  fugitive 
reminiscences  of  the  Highland  fling.  They  clapped  their 
hands  to  keep  time,  and  laughed,  as  well  they  might.     Then 

157 


Fine  Oranges  ! 


Harry  and  I  performed  a  valse  a  deux  temps^  which  appeared 
to  them  still  more  eminently  absurd.  After  which  the  old 
mother  struck  up  on  the  guitar,  and  all  the  company  danced 
the  fandango. 

We  slept  in  our  clothes  across  a  very  pulicious  mattress, 
and  woke  with  the  sun,  as  he  lifted  his  broad  face  from  the 
mountain-pillowed  horizon.  We  breakfasted,  and  departed 
by  a  road  which  seemed  a  combination  of  broken  pig-troughs 
filled  with  melting  snow.  It  soon  narrowed  to  a  path  not 
above  a  foot  wide,  and  my  pony  took  the  occasion  to  slip 
off  backward,  and  roll  with  me,  end  over  end,  down  a  drop 
of  about  nine  feet  (it  might  just  as  easily  have  happened  to 
be  ninety).  I  was  luckily  no  worse,  and  managed  to 
scramble  up  to  the  road  again  at  an  easier  place  a  little 
farther  on.  It  is  rather  a  happy  accident,  as  it  will  pro- 
bably make  the  Moor  more  cautious.  He  is  very  clumsy 
with  his  feet,  and  unused  to  mountain  roads.  The  day 
before,  when  we  were  scrambling  on  the  rocks,  off  the  road 
which  we  had  lost,  both  he  and  I  fell  head  over  heels 
into  a  small  chasm,  which  luckily  had  bushes  at  the 
bottom. 

At  last,  we  got  into  the  regular  road  from  Ronda  to 
Caucin,  from  which  there  was  another  splendid  view  of 
Gibraltar  and  Africa.  A  league  or  so  after  passing  the 
latter  place,  the  road  descended  suddenly  to  the  valley  of 
the  Guadiaro.  At  the  bottom  grew  some  orange-trees, 
thirty  or  forty  feet  high,  and  thickly  laden  with  gigantic 
fruit.  We  had  not  had  any  good  oranges  among  the  moun- 
tains, where  only  the  refuse  come  in  a  bruised  state,  so  we 
called  the  man  who  was  up  a  ladder  among  the  branches. 
He  brought  us  as  many  as  we  could  stuff  into  the  vacant 
capacities  of  our  alforjai^  and  we  gave  him  a  few  cuartos.'^ 

'  The  cuarto  is  a  shade  more  than  a  farthing, 
158 


shall  We  Show  an   Intention  ? 

The  oranges  were  about  five  inches  in  diameter,  and  excel- 
lent. There  is  a  fine,  fresh,  aromatic  flavour  about  new- 
gathered  oranges  from  the  tree,  which  those  who  only  know 
the  flat,  tasteless,  green-picked,  box-ripened  trash  we  get  in 
England  would  not  imagine. 

We  skirted  the  banks  of  the  rushing  Guadiaro — oleander- 
fringed — by  a  good  road,  the  first  our  horses'  feet  have 
touched  for  a  hundred  miles.  Harry  cut  an  oleander 
switch  for  his  pony,  who  was  lazy,  and  it  proved  tough  and 
useful.  As  we  rode  along,  we  began  to  talk  about  what  we 
should  do  in  Gibraltar,  which  there  was  some  possibility  of 
reaching  by  a  hard  push  this  very  night.  It  was  probable  we 
should  know  some  of  the  officers  ;  but  then  we  were  shock- 
ing figures  in  our  muleteer's  costume  to  present  ourselves  in 
civilised  society.  To  be  sure,  we  had  some  shabby  old 
trousers  and  shooting-coats  for  a  change  in  case  of  wet  in 
the  alforjas ;  but  it  was  my  opinion  that  we  should  do 
better  to  go  in  boldly  on  the  strength  of  our  present  vagrant 
character  than  to  make  a  servile  and  seedy  effort  at  respect- 
ability, which  no  traveller  can  pack  in  less  than  a  heavy 
portmanto  with  appurtenances,  viz.,  hat-box,  dressing-case, 
and  an  umbrella. 

Harry  was  decidedly  of  opinion  that  we  ought  to  show  at 
least  an  intention  of  respectability,  so  as  not  to  outrage  the 
sensibilities  of  British  subjects.  I  argued  that  it  did  not 
signify  what  one  did  in  this  world,  so  long  as  the  perpetrator 
himself  was  not  ashamed  of  it.  All  awkwardness  produced 
in  the  minds  of  persons  witnessing  odd  things  said  or  done, 
arose  from  the  sense  of  awkwardness  in  the  person  doing 
them  communicated  by  sympathy  ;  and  that  the  most  extra- 
vagant things  might  be  done  with  impunity,  as  long  as  they 
were  done  with  an  appearance  of  bond  fide  confidence. 

"  People  will  not  abuse  you  to  your   face,"  he  replied  ; 


Value  of  Public  Opinion 

"  but  you  may  depend  they  will  not  omit  to  do  so  behind 
your  back." 

"  What  people  say  behind  my  back  I  don't  so  much  care 
for,  as  long  as  I  have  no  good-natured  friend  to  report  it  to 
me."  Here  you  see  we  were  launched  upon  a  general  issue 
of  a  very  vague  and  desultory  character. 

"  What  is  the  consequence  of  the  world's  good  opinion  of 
you,  except  as  it  affects  the  world's  manner  of  treating  you  ? 
Now,  I  am  quite  satisfied  with  the  world's  treatment  of 
me,  which  I  feel  confident  is  fully  equal  to,  if  not  beyond, 
my  deserts.  If  people  abuse  me  behind  my  back,  I  am 
consoled  by  the  idea  that  they  also  abuse  everybody 
else,  and  are  abused  themselves  in  turn  by  me  and 
others." 

"  If  you  only  care  for  the  opinion  of  others,  as  far  as  you 
hear  it  yourself,  why  should  you  care  for  fame  after  your 
death,  which,  or  course,  you  can't  hear  from  anybody's 
mouth,  unless,  indeed,  you  were  to  make  a  special  injunc- 
tion to  your  executors  that  your  body  should  be  eaten  by 
bookworms  ?  " 

"  I  care  nothing,"  said  I,  "  about  posthumous  fame. 
When  I  am  dead,  it  could  not  cause  me  to  be  asked  to 
dinners  and  balls,  and  dejeuners  and  drums,  and  that  is  all 
the  worldly  use  of  fame,  except  the  very  equivocal  gratifica- 
tion which  may  arise  from  having  one's  worst  jokes  and 
most  maudlin  sentiments  laughed  at,  and  listened  to  with 
as  much  appreciation  as  one's  best,  because  one  is  famous  ; 
and  we  certainly  do  see  pottering  old-established  reputations 
who  seem  to  enjoy  it." 

"If  you  don't  care  about  posthumous  fame,"  said  Harry 
(you  see  how  soon  our  argument  fell  plump  into  personali- 
ties), "  why  do  you  take  care  of  such  a  lot  of  old  scraps  and 
papers,   which   you  never  mean  to  publish  while  you  are 

1 60 


what  is   Fame  ? 

alive  !  Perhaps,  you  will  say,  they  are  not  at  all  likely  to 
add  to  your  reputation  after  death,  and  therefore  are  not  to 
be  interpreted  into  any  such  design." 

"  I  am  an  author,"  I  replied,  growing  somewhat  senten- 
tious, "  and  I  believe  that  I  live  for  some  purpose,  other- 
wise I  should  not  have  been  created.  If  I  happen  to  enter- 
tain the  wish  that  when  I  go  from  this  world  I  may  leave 
upon  the  prepared  paper  of  literature,  some  photographic 
record  of  how  the  world's  image  looked  in  through  the 
peculiar  lens  of  my  individual  mind — it  certainly  is  not  out 
of  love  for  that  particular  stone  which  falls  heir  to  my  name, 
and  stands  at  the  head  of  my  grave.  What  would  it 
signify  to  the  mouldering  dust  beneath,  or  the  disembodied 
spirit  steeped  in  joy  or  anguish  which  no  trifle  could  dis- 
turb, to  know  that  innumerable  Smiths,  and  Jacksons,  and 
Thomsons  had  got  into  the  way,  some  hundred  years  after 
my  demise,  of  making  pic-nic  pilgrimages  to  the  picturesque 
churchyard,  and  eating  pigeon-pie  over  my  graven  epitaph- 
slab  ?  Do  you  think  my  spirit  would  have  nothing  better 
to  do  than  come  and  chuckle  unseen,  while  they  scrawled 
their  names  upon  my  monument,  erasing  a  cloud  of  pre- 
vious Smiths,  and  Jacksons,  and  Thomsons,  to  make  a  space 
for  themselves  ?  This  is  a  true  vision  of  that  kind  of  fame 
which  men  promise  themselves  when  they  say  in  their  hearts 
'  we  will  leave  a  name.'  No — when  I  am  dead,  I  care  no 
more  for  my  name  than  for  an  old  hat  which  can  be  worn 
no  more.  But  I  would,  and  I  hope  I  shall,  leave  some- 
thing, which  shall  remain,  a  tissue  or  a  tangle  of  those 
rays  of  beauty  and  of  truth  I  have  been  able  to  draw  out, 
unbroken,  as  I  was  unravelling  away  the  web  of  my  exist- 
ence. I  would  leave  something  that  would  either  stand  for 
ever,  like  an  ancient  walnut  dropping  a  perennial  shower  of 
nuts  to  be  cracked  by  generation  after  generation,  and  only 

i6i 


Posthumous   IndifFerence 

bearing  the  more  for  having  its  lower  branches  beaten  by 
the  staves  of  successive  critics  ;  or,  at  least,  like  an  old 
apple-tree,  which,  after  the  original  stump  is  worn  out  and 
forgotten,  leaves  a  fruitful  family  of  grafts  in  many 
orchards." 

"  That  sounds  all  very  fine  and  plausible  in  theory," 
replied  Harry,  "  but  it  is  not  true  in  practice  ;  for  nobody, 
while  he  is  working  in  this  world,  thinks  of  himself  in  the 
result  otherwise  than  as  a  living  man,  which  is  natural 
enough,  having  no  experience  of  what  being  dead  feels  like. 
A  man  likes  to  leave  a  good  name  after  he  is  dead,  because 
he  has  found  it  a  pleasant  thing  while  he  was  alive.  How 
would  you  like,  to  put  the  case  the  other  way,  to  have  some 
indelible  infamy  attached  to  your  name  for  ever  ? " 

"  If  it  was  undeserved,"  said  I,  "  and  it  came  on  after 
death,  I  should  find  it  no  more  inconvenient  than  rotten- 
ness— but  I  should  of  course  be  sorry  for  my  relations  and 
descendants,  to  whom  it  would  be  an  inconvenience  to  have 
an  unpleasant,  unburiable  moral  corpse  of  an  unjustly  sup- 
posed immoral  ancestor  always  lying  at  their  door,  and 
offending  the  metaphorical  nostrils  of  their  friends." 

In  this  discourse  we  arrived  before  the  door  of  a  venta  by 
the  banks  of  the  Guadiaro,  and  as  we  were  hungry,  and  our 
ponies  had  come  a  long  way  we  dismounted.  There  was  a 
family  of  gipsies  on  the  tramp,  sitting  and  lying  about  in 
picturesque  groups,  basking  in  the  sun.  Two  handsome 
olive-complexioned  boys  started  up  and  began  to  help  us  to 
unsaddle.  They  all,  from  the  wrinkled  and  bleached  old 
grandmother  to  the  baby  in  arms,  had  something  sinister 
and  ominous  in  their  swarthy  faces,  which  gave  us  an  impres- 
sion that,  in  spite  of  their  ^air  words  and  courteous  smiles, 
they  were  cursing  us  by  their  devils  even  when  we  presented 
them  with  the  remains  of  our  loaf. 

162 


San  Roque 

We  rode  away  with  all  the  maledictions  on  our  heads, 
troubling  our  heads  as  little  as  their  own  vermin  did  theirs. 
We  crossed  the  Guadiaro,  which  was  broad  and  rapid,  and 
came  up  to  our  girths.  Passing  the  venta  del  Guadiaro^  we 
came  to  some  hills,  from  the  brows  of  which  we  looked  back 
on  the  lofty,  ragged  mountains  which  we  had  slept  among 
last  night,  and  saw  their  blue  peaks  all  purpled  with  the 
carmine  sunset.  The  darkness  came  upon  us  in  the  hollows 
and  dingles  of  the  great  cork  wood. 

Afterwards  we  emerged  upon  a  dehesa^  which  seemed 
endless,  and  the  road  was  hard  to  keep  by  the  light  of  the 
evening  star,  which,  however,  shone  very  broad  and  clear, 
as  if  she  meant  to  do  all  she  could  for  us.  Once  I  took  a 
ridge  of  rocks  for  San  Roque  ;  but  it  appeared  as  if  we 
should  never  get  to  the  end  of  our  day's  work.  We  heard 
the  eight-o'clock  gun  boom  over  the  bay  of  Gibraltar,  and 
echo  from  the  cliffs  of  Algeciras,  and  we  hailed  with  enthu- 
siasm the  voice  of  the  British  lion.  Still  on  and  on,  over 
hill  and  valley,  and  knoll  and  dell,  till  at  last  the  lights  of  a 
real  and  final  San  Roque  twinkled  in  the  distance. 

I  was  quite  knocked  up,  and  on  reaching  Macrea's  Hotel, 
was  unable  to  do  justice  to  the  mutton  chops  and  Bass's 
pale  ale,  on  which  we  supped.  I  had  just  strength  remain- 
ing to  go  round  the  room  and  rejoice  with  patriotic  eye  over 
the  truly  British  prints  with  which  the  walls  were  hung, 
principally  sporting  pieces  and  illustrations  of  Harrison 
Ainsworth's  romances.  The  mahogany  sideboard,  too,  was 
ranged  with  many  decanters  and  cruet-stands,  and  mustard- 
pots,  and  forks,  and  spoons, — things  unknown  to  the  hostels 
of  Spain,  where  you  have  your  plate  and  pipkin  set  before 
you,  and  pull  your  own  navaja  (clasp-knife)  out  of  your 
sash  to  despatch  the  comestibles.  Sometimes  by  earnest 
entreaty  one  may  get  a  wooden  spoon  among  a  large  party  ; 

163  L 


Gibraltar 

and  with  the  wine-jug  they  never  think  of  giving  two 
persons  more  than  a  glass — but  then,  of  course,  the  other 
may  drink  out  of  the  jug. 

I  ate  a  mouthful,  and  immediately  fell  asleep,  with  a  long 
cigar  in  my  mouth.  Harry,  however,  considerately  routed 
me  up,  and  got  me  off  to  bed.  He  said  next  morning  that 
he  did  not  believe  I  ever  woke  up  at  all,  for  I  held  my 
candle  at  right-angles  and  talked  incoherently  in  Spanish  to 
the  English  waiter,  who  seemed  much  shocked. 

This  morning  I  rose  quite  rested,  and  on  my  feed  again. 
Gibraltar  was  now  within  a  league  and  a  half  of  us,  and 
looked  much  more  striking  than  any  view  I  had  seen  of  it, 
going  round  by  sea  on  the  other  side. 

Crossing  a  great  number  of  drawbridges  over  broad  fosses, 
between  successive  rims  of  battery,  we  pass  at  length  be- 
neath the  shoulder  of  the  great  rock.  The  market  was 
crowded  with  all  nations  :  Turks  and  Jews,  and  Moors  and 
Greeks,  in  turbans  and  jillabiahs  and  fezzes,  chattering  an 
immense  variety  of  languages.  The  long  street  was  full  ot 
familiar  English  faces,  and  the  shop-windows  surmounted 
with  familiar  English  names.  People  stared  at  us  a  little  as 
we  rode  in,  and  we  heard  a  gentleman  with  a  white  tie  and 
spectacles  say  to  a  young  gentleman  in  a  very  long  waist- 
coat, with  a  very  large  gold  cable-chain  (evidently  his 
travelling  pupil),  "  Look  there  ! — here  is  doubtless  a  pair  of 
those  picturesque  Ronda  smugglers  Mr.  Ford  speaks  of." — 
"  All  serene  ! "  replied  the  young  gentleman,  without  any 
tokens  of  tempestuous  interest. 

The  waiters  of  the  Clubhouse  Hotel  seemed  quite  aghast 
at  such  an  abnormous  pair  of  Englishmen,  but  we  faced  them 
with  calm  indifference,  as  if  we  were  quite  convinced  that  all 
travellers  arriving  from  Spain  came  in  a  similar  disguise. 
But  it  appeared,  from  the  curiosity  we  excited,  that  there 

164 


Foreign  Climbs 

was  something  singular  about  our  get-up  or  get-down, 
for  a  crowd  gathered  together  to  see  us  alight  at  the 
door. 

The  first  thing  was  to  rush  to  the  post-office  ;  the  second, 
to  fortify  our  disappointments  with  a  light  lunch  of  bread 
and  (double  Gloucester)  cheese  and  beer ;  and  after  writing  an 
hour  or  so,  we  sallied  forth,  when,  with  that  aspiring  energy 
which  characterises  the  youth  of  Britain,  we  scaled  the  rock 
by  its  most  rugged  and  steep  ascent,  which,  scorning  the 
idea  of  a  guide,  we  of  course  hit  upon  with  our  usual  felicity. 
After  toihng  up  an  interminable  and  dilapidated  flight  of 
steps,  on  the  edge  of  a  wall,  we  reached  the  signal- 
station  hot  and  breathless,  giving  vent  to  many  palpitating 
maledictions  on  the  oppressive  sultriness  of  foreign  climbs. 

Here  the  fresh  breeze  blowing  over  the  razor-edge  of  the 
rock's  backbone,  freshened  us  up,  and  we  looked  over  the 
dizzy  precipice,  which  goes  down  like  a  wall  on  the  other 
side  to  the  rippling  blue  of  the  Mediterranean,  1,300  feet 
beneath.  "  The  stately  ships  sailed  in  and  out  of  their  haven 
under  the  hill,"  and  in  the  excitement  of  the  scene,  with  two 
seas  and  two  continents  within  our  horizon,  the  wandering 
spirit  of  the  buccaneer  of  old  came  strong  upon  us,  and  we 
spake  of  selling  our  ponies  and  buying  a  shallop,  of  which 
Harry  (late  midshipman,  R.N.)  was  to  be  captain,  and  I 
crew.  In  this  we  were  to  sail  by  Scylla  and  Charybdis  to 
Carthage,  and  crossing  northward,  glide  among  the  Ionian 
islands ;  then,  coasting  along  the  winding  bays  of  Asia 
Minor,  touch  at  Tyre  and  Sidon,  put  in  at  'Joppa,  and 
visit  Jerusalem. 

We  descended  to  be  in  time  for  dinner  ;  and  learning 
that  it  would  be  dished  at  gun-fire,  went  out  and  waited 
upon  the  line-wall  to  see  the  ceremony.  The  following 
sonnet,  in  the  mild  tourist  style,  will  save  description. 

165 


The  Evening  Gun 

THE    EVENING   GUN. 

Behind  the  cloudy  cope  of  Algezir, 
The  sun  upon  the  western  heaven  has  spread 
The  glowing  curtains  of  his  golden  bed — 

Night's  ebon  steeds  advancing  in  his  rear, 

With  shadowy  wings  pursuing  swift,  draw  near ; 
While  dark'ning  vapours,  from  their  nostrils  sped. 
Athwart  the  ridge  come  sailing  overhead. 

Where  Calpe  frowns  deep-bastion'd  tier  o'er  tier. 

Lo  !   from  her  brow  a  gush  of  bursting  flame, 
Whose  hot  sulphureous  breath  in  silence  roll'd, 
Mixes  among  the  fleeting  vapours  cold; — 

Hark !   the  slow  thunder  breaks  with  dread  acclaim  ; 
And  the  hush'd  ocean  trembles,  being  told 
The  proud  supremacy  of  Albion's  name. 

At  dinner  all  the  people  were  talking  about  the  new 
ministry,  which  had  come  in  while  we  had  been  wandering 
among  the  mountains,  thinking  of  nobody  in  the  world  less 
than  Lord  John  and  Lord  Derby. 

March  7. 

Now,  that  I  have  got  news  from  home,  I  have  agreed  to 
go  over  the  Straits  to  Africa,  which,  by  the  way,  though 
Harry  had  been  daily  talking  of  it,  we  could  not  safely  have 
done  yet,  for  there  has  been  a  most  tremendous  storm 
raging  almost  ever  since  we  arrived.  A  great  man-of-war 
has  run  aground  in  the  harbour,  and  all  the  shores  are 
strewed  with  wrecks. 

Since  writing  the  above  we  have  been  down  to  the 
"  water-gate,"  and  arranged  to  go  over  to-morrow  morning 
if  the  wind  abate,  which  there  is  some  hope  of,  as  the  even- 
ing is  rather  finer.  The  captain  says  his  vessel  will  be 
laden  with  corn   and   Jews — a    curious  cargo.     We  have 

166 


A   Funny  Old  Turk 

done  and  seen  nothing  worth  mentioning  here  in  the  last 
three  or  four  days,  because  of  the  foul  weather.  We  have 
sat  at  our  window  sketching  the  strange  figures  of  Jews  and 
Pagans  standing  on  the  line-wall,  apparently  anxious  for  the 
arrival  of  expected  crafts,  perhaps  sunk  in  the  tempest. 
They  arc  usually  very  restless  and  difficult  to  draw.  There 
is  one  funny  old  Turk  in  particular,  who  amuses  us  the 
most — a  crooked  old  figure  in  a  large  white  turban  and  blue 
boornoos^^  who  goes  flapping  about  in  his  wet  yellow  slippers, 
peeping  anxiously  through  a  large  pair  of  spectacles  under 
a  huge  green  umbrella. 

'  Hooded  cloak. 


167 


CHAPTER   XVI 

Africa,  March  9. 
I  THINK  my  reader  will  allow  that  there  is  a  solemn 
grandeur  of  simplicity  in  this  date — an  assumption  of 
continental  completeness  ;  as  if,  by  the  first  step  on  shore, 
one  had  put  one's  foot  into  the  whole  boot  of  Africa.  You 
would  have  laughed  if  you  could  have  seen  us  land.  A 
quantity  of  yelling  savages,  above  their  knees  in  the  surf, 
hardly  waited  for  the  keel  to  cleave  the  sand,  before  they 
plunged  upon  us,  like  schoolboys  over  a  handful  of  nuts, 
and  carried  us  off,  after  a  severe  scramble.  The  three  or 
four,  who  set  me  down  on  the  sand,  immediately  became 
vociferous  for  bakshish.  To  keep  them  a  little  at  bay  till 
I  could  get  out  a  small  bit  of  silver,  it  occurred  to  me  to 
twirl  rapidly  round,  clearing  a  circle  in  the  press  with  the 
heavy  swing  of  my  cloak  held  by  the  collar. 

But  I  have  begun  in  the  middle,  and  ought  first  to  have 
told  you  how  we  got  across  the  Straits.  The  wind  had 
gradually  fallen  in  the  night,  and  at  breakfast  a  message 
came  from  the  captain  that  he  was  only  waiting  for  us. 
The  felucca  which  we  were  to  sail  in  seemed  very  deep 
laden.  Arriving  aboard,  the  captain  asked  us  if  we  had  our 
bills  of  health,  which  we  had  not. 

"  Then  you  will  have  to  go  back,"  said  he,  "  otherwise 
you  will  not  be  able  to  go  ashore  at  Tangier."  He  sent 
his  mate  back  with  us. 

i68 


The  Moorish  Corn  Merchant 

The  old  Moorish  merchant,  who  was  in  a  tremendous 
stickle  to  get  his  wheat  to  the  market  at  Tangier,  and  who 
had  probably  been  already  using  disrespectful  language 
towards  our  great-grandmothers  for  their  somewhat  remote 
instrumentality  in  keeping  the  vessel  waiting — now  finding 
that  something  was  forgotten,  and  that  still  further  delay 
was  about  to  take  place — grew  pale  with  fury,  and  began 
to  scream  and  gesticulate  in  the  most  frantic  manner, 
wringing  his  hands  and  tearing  his  turban  ;  so  that  he  had 
to  be  held  by  the  sailors,  to  prevent  him  from  doing  some- 
thing desperate. 

The  stout  old  Cerberus  guarding  the  portals  of  the  Bill 
of  Health  Office,  on  the  quay,  told  us  in  Spanish  to  wait. 
With  a  great  burst  of  indignant  breath,  I  cried  "  Porqu6  ? " 
(why?) 

"  Porque ;  because  his  worship  the  commissioner  is 
engaged." 

"  Engaged !  What  is  that  to  us  ?  Let  him  engage 
himself  without  delay  in  making  out  our  bill  of  health. 
Engaged,  forsooth  !  when  very  principal  caballeros  have 
their  vessel  waiting,  with  a  fair  wind  for  Africa  !  " 

All  this  bluster  did  not  move  him  in  the  least ;  but  the 
mate  bethought  himself  of  a  remark  which  we  should  never 
have  hit  on. 

"These  are  English  gentlemen," said  he  ;  and  this  simple 
truism  had  the  most  electrical  efiect  on  the  old  Gibraltese 
porter,  who,  by  our  dresses,  had  taken  us  for  Spaniards. 
Up  he  jumped,  with,  "  Beg  pardon,  gentlemen,"  and 
showed  us  in — where  the  old  clerk,  who  must  have  heard 
all  that  passed  at  the  door,  looked  rather  ashamed  of  himself, 
— and  we  had  what  we  came  for  in  a  jiffy.  He  made  a  job 
of  us,  nevertheless,  drawing  us  out  two  separate  bills  where 
one  would  have  done  for  a  whole  ship's  company,  as  ours,  in 

169 


The  Pillars  of  Hercules 

fact,  did.  This  accounted  to  us  for  the  seemingly  inexpli- 
cable patience  with  which  the  captain  waited  for  us,  though 
we  had  made  a  bargain  to  go  very  cheap.  He  had  no  other 
bill  of  health  on  board,  and  without  us  could  not  have 
landed.  On  our  re-arrival  aboard,  as  all  our  small  change 
had  been  expended  on  the  bills  of  health,  the  old  Moor,  in 
his  anxiety,  gave  us  money  to  pay  the  boatmen,  and  the 
felucca  was  under  sail  in  less  than  two  minutes,  tumbling 
heavily  along  over  the  rolling  seas  which  the  late  storms 
had  left  behind.  From  the  angle  of  Algeciras  we  steered 
towards  the  Gibel  Moosa  (Mountain  of  Moses),  the  other 
Pillar  of  Hercules,  and  a  much  larger  one  than  Calpe,  being 
nearly  6,ooo  precipitous  feet  above  the  beach, — a  fine 
rugged  pile  of  dark  rock,  frowning  like  an  ^Ethiop  giant, 
a  vast  continent's  worthy  sentinel,  with  a  fillet  of  white 
cloud  circling  his  swarthy  brow. 

On  board,  beside  the  corn-merchant,  there  were  two 
other  Moors,  younger  men,  whom  we  took  to  be  his  sons, 
and  about  thirty  Jews  of  all  ages.  They  seemed  to  be  in  a 
state  of  exuberant  hilarity  on  their  approaching  return  to 
their  native  country.  They  were  now  crowding  round  the 
purser  of  the  vessel,  a  Hebrew  also,  who  had  in  his  hand  a 
roll,  written  in  the  cursive  Hebrew  character,  seeming  to  be 
a  list  of  names,  with  sums  in  dollars  and  reals  opposite  each. 
Set  on  the  closed  hatchway,  which  served  as  his  comptoir^ 
was  an  open  money-bag,  from  which  he  was  disbursing 
small  sums  to  a  group  with  greedy  eyes,  and  hooked, 
avaricious  fingers  outstretched  for  their  share.  So  eager 
and  clamorous  were  his  customers,  that  one  of  the  sailors 
had  to  be  stationed  near  with  a  rope's-end  to  keep  them 
a  little  in  order. 

It  appeared,  on  inquiry,  that  they  were  a  party  of 
beggars,    brought    over    on  speculation    by   the    purser,   to 

170 


JudaSj  the  Purse-Holder 

exercise  their  calling  on  the  British  sympathies  and  pockets 
of  Gibraltar.  He  had  kept  their  purse,  and  was  now 
distributing  the  proceeds  of  their  respective  earnings,  after 
deducting  their  passage  and  keep  on  the  Rock,  with,  no 
doubt,  a  moderate  per-centage  to  remunerate  himself  for 
the  risk  and  trouble  of  the  undertaking.  The  man's 
hypocritical  smooth  oily  face,  with  twinkling  sharp  grey 
eyes,  under  a  sloping,  wicked  cast  of  brow,  would  have 
made  a  good  study  for  a  Judas  ;  whom  I  imagine  always  as 
a  smiling,  plausible  rogue,  not  the  scowling,  perspicuous 
traitor  he  is  usually  painted. 

Among  the  others,  too,  there  was  a  great  number  of 
picturesque  heads,  with  a  variety  of  beards  ;  but  the  nobly- 
cut  features  were  generally  disfigured  by  a  mean,  servile 
expression.  Our  sketch-books  were  brought  out  of  the 
faithful  alforjas^  which  still  accompanied  us ;  but  the 
Israelites  seemed  to  entertain  a  strong  objection  to  having 
their  likeness,  which  they  considered  as  part  of  themselves, 
taken  from  them.  The  victim  usually  covered  up  his  head 
in  the  cowl  of  his  jillablah  (a  sort  of  grey  striped  coarse 
woollen  shirt,  with  a  peak  and  tasselled  hood),  and  it  was 
only  from  stolen  glances,  when  his  curiosity  to  see  what 
was  going  on  overcame  his  horror  of  being  drawn,  that  we 
could  gather  a  few  faint  resemblances.  These,  however, 
were  immediately  recognised  as  exact  portraits  by  the 
bystanders,  who,  as  long  as  they  were  not  pitched  upon 
themselves,  were  much  amused  and  delighted. 

The  sketch-books  were  soon  shut  up  by  a  sharp  shower, 
and  all  the  company  huddled  together  under  bits  of 
tarpaulin  and  bits  of  board,  which  four  or  five  would  prop 
on  the  tops  of  their  heads.  The  Moor  and  his  family 
crept  into  some  empty  wooden  boxes,  in  which  they  had 
probably  brought   merchandise   to    Gibraltar.     We  in   the 

171 


I  am  called  "  The  Christian  " 

stern  were  tolerably  protected  by  the  three-cornered  mizzen- 
sail.  A  little  Hebrew  boy,  who  crept  for  shelter  nearer  to 
me  than  the  purser's  ideas  of  etiquette  approved,  was 
commanded  to  "  quitarse  d'arriba  del  Cristiano  "  (to  remove 
himself  from  above  the  Christian),  which  rather  struck  my 
fancy,  it  having  never  occurred  to  me  before  to  be  so 
specially  designated  by  mv  father. 

When  the  shower  was  over,  and  the  accounts  of  the 
mendicity  scheme  settled,  I  asked  Judas  Iscariot  to  let  me 
look  at  the  list,  and  to  explain  the  alphabet  to  me.  I  wrote 
out  a  few  of  the  first  lines  of  Genesis,  and  got  him  to  write 
it  in  the  cursive  character.  The  two  young  Moors,  seeing 
a  writing-lesson  going  on,  came  to  look  ;  so  I  suddenly 
changed  my  pencil,  and  ran  off  into  a  verse  of  the  Koran  ; 
whereupon  the  infidels  began  to  exclaim,  and  we  at  once 
fraternised  on  the  strength  of  a  mutual,  though  probably  on 
both  sides  a  very  slight,  acquaintance  with  the  writings  of 
Mahomet. 

We  entered  into  a  sort  of  heterogeneous  conversation, 
mingling  for  its  elements  the  little  they  knew  of  Spanish 
with  the  little  I  knew  of  Arabic.  One  of  them,  who 
proved  to  be  a  barber,  had  a  talent  for  drawing,  and 
illustrated  his  discourse  on  the  beauty  and  magnificence  of 
Tangier  with  a  sketch  of  the  mosque  tower.  He  drew 
quite  in  the  mediaeval  style,  with  broad  black  lines.  At 
the  top  of  his  tower  was  a  turbaned  Muezzin  with  a 
speaking-trumpet,  which  if  he  had  dropped  it  perpendicu- 
larly from  the  mouthpiece  would  have  touched  the  ground. 
Still  higher  was  a  tremendous  square  stiff  flag,  with  a 
crescent  in  the  middle,  drawn  with  a  gigantic  minuteness 
of  attention  to  the  rings,  and  pulleys,  and  cords  which  were 
to  hoist  it  on  the  staff.  Beside  it,  in  the  same  style,  he 
drew  a  fort,  with  bomb-shells  flying  in  all  directions. 

172 


Samson 

On  approaching  Tangier  the  hilarity  of  the  Jews,  which 
had  been  damped  by  the  shower,  revived  in  such  force,  that 
the  functionary  of  the  rope's-end  thought  it  necessary  to 
admonish  them  playfully  over  their  heads  and  shoulders. 
They  all  received  his  chastisements  with  a  cringing 
humility  except  one,  whom  the  Christian  bully  evidently 
held  in  respect. 

This  was  a  young  man,  the  most  uproarious  of  the 
party  ;  but  his  figure  was  a  model  for  a  young  Samson  in 
all  the  pride  of  his  strength, — such  a  brawny  breadth  of 
back  and  shoulders,  depth  of  chest,  and  massive  mould  of 
limbs  1  The  consciousness  of  superior  power  gave  him 
both  dignity  and  impudence.  The  sailor,  who  was  bully- 
ing the  rest,  seemed  ashamed  to  spare  the  worst  offender 
altogether,  and  occasionally  gave  him  a  mild  flick  ;  where- 
upon he  would  lay  hold  of  him,  and  turn  him  about  like  a 
child,  and  laugh,  showing  a  wide  mouthful  of  teeth  set  in 
all  directions,  like  chevaux-de-frise.  His  whole  countenance 
was  equally  hideous  ;  but  there  was  a  broad  bestial  good- 
humour  and  boldness,  and  wealth  of  animal  spirits  in  the 
expression,  which  invested  the  man,  taken  all  together,  with 
a  kind  of  ugly  beauty  and  coarse  nobility.  He  had  offered 
to  carry  us  ashore.  He  set  his  services  at  a  peseta^  about 
elevenpence,  which  we  rejected  with  scorn.  He  immedi- 
ately went  off  in  an  extempore  Gitanesque  style  of  song,  in 
the  indifferent  Spanish  which  is  the  habitual  language  of  the 
Tangier  Jews  : — 

SAMSON'S  SONG. 

As  our  vessel  swept  the  billows, 

Sailing  into  Tangier  bay, 
To  the  haughty,  rich  Inglese, 

Thus  I  spoke,  and  this  did  say  : — 

173 


Mohammed 

"  See  the  surf  is  white  and  frothy, 

Lashed  upon  the  yellow  sand — 
I  am  poor,  and  wear  no  small-clothes, 

I  will  bear  my  lord  to  land." 

"  If  you  bear  me  through  the  water, 
What's  your  price — the  smallest  sum?" 

For  Inglese  loves  to  bargain. 
And  the  gold  sticks  to  his  thumb. 

"  I  demand  but  one  peseta, 

One  peseta  and  no  more." 
"  Dog  ! "  he  cried,  "  thou  shalt  not  cheat  me. 

Sooner  will  I  wade  ashore." 

This  impromptu,  delivered  in  a  rough  sonorous  voice,  with 
much  spirit  and  humour,  in  a  lively  trochaic  (that  is  to 
say,  trundling)  metre,  was  received  with  laughter  and 
applause. 

The  town  of  Tangier  stands  on  a  slope  within  the 
western  horn  of  the  bay.  On  the  horn  is  a  ruinous  old 
fortress,  up  to  which  the  town  rises  in  a  flight  of  flat-topped 
houses,  with  here  and  there  a  itw  towers  and  minarets  ;  it 
is  in  fact  Hke  an  ordinary  picture  of  an  Eastern  city. 

When  we  emerged  from  the  skirmish  on  the  beach,  we 
were  still  followed  by  a  stately  old  Moor,  with  a  clean 
white  turban,  who  seemed  in  a  tranquil  manner  to  have 
made  up  his  mind  that  we  were  now  become  part  of  his 
private  property.     He  talked  a  peculiar  Spanish. 

"Senora  Inglesa  tengo  fonda  aqui  riba."  (An  English 
lady  has  an  hotel  up  here.) 

"  Oh,  that's  it,"  said  Harry.  "  He  belongs  to  Miss 
Duncan's  hotel,  that's  all  right." 

"Yez,  gen-men,  me  Mohammed,  all  right,  belongy 
to  Miss  Duncan  Hotel.  Tought  gen-men  was  Spanis ; 
me   talk  Inglis  same  as  Spanis.     Zat   mosky  !    musleman 

^74 


and  Moses 

jurje,"  said  he,  as  we  passed  the  arched  doorway  of  the 
mosque,  and  saw  turbaned  figures  IcneeHng  here  and  there 
within. 

We  followed  him  up  the  main  street  to  the  market-place, 
the  inhabitants  staring  at  us  out  of  their  pigeon-hole  shops. 
At  last,  through  narrow,  dirty,  winding  streets,  we  reached 
the  hotel,  and  slammed  the  door  in  the  face  of  a  train  of 
infidel  ragamuffins,  who  were  following  us  for  bakshish. 
The  house,  a  curious  old  Moorish  dwelling,  is  fitted  up  with 
English  comfort  and  furniture.  At  dinner,  we  were  waited 
on  by  the  majestic  Mahomet  and  a  meek  Jew,  Moses, 
whose  shambling  gait  and  down-cast  look  formed  a  contrast 
to  the  imperial  port  and  solemn  strut  of  the  picturesque  old 
Moor.  Moses,  however,  was  practically  far  the  more 
serviceable  man  of  the  two. 

Our  venerable  and  attentive  hostess  paid  us  a  visit,  and 
told  us  about  many  remarkable  persons,  who  have  been  here 
during  the  nine-and-twenty  years  she  has  lived  in  Tangier, 
with  many  things  which  they  did  and  said  ;  but  the  only 
vivid  picture  which  this  chronicle  has  left  on  my  memory  is 
of  the  amiable  and  condescending    manner   in   which  the 

Marquis    of  G dried    a    pair   of  silk  socks  over    the 

charcoal  brazier  in  the  kitchen  ;  an  historical  fact,  which 
occurred  about  nine  years  ago. 

The  moon  is  glancing  in  through  the  open  window  from 
the  spangled  ripples  of  the  bay,  but  I  am  too  sleepy  to  be 
poetical. 

This  morning,  before  breakfast,  I  stopped  before  one  of 
the  little  shop-nooks  in  the  main  street,  where  a  grim  and 
bearded  Pagan  sat  cross-legged,  and  began  to  bargain  with 
him  for  a  pair  of  bright-yellow  morocco-leather  slippers. 
While  the  treaty  was  proceeding,  a  sleek  and  officious  Jew 
came  up,  under  pretence  of  interpreting,  and  insinuated  that 

175 


slippery  Dealing 


he  had  better  and  cheaper  slippers  at  his  shop.  I  thought, 
perhaps,  he  was  no  greater  rogue  than  others,  and  so  I  went 
with  him,  and  found  a  very  smart  establishment  upstairs, 
with  a  great  variety  of  shawls  and  scarfs,  and  jillabiahs,  and 
Moorish  cushions,  and  daggers,  and  every  sort  of  curiosity  ; 
the  only  thing  which  appeared  to  be  deficient  were  yellow 
slippers.  In  the  court  of  the  house  there  was  a  plasterer  or 
whitewasher.  While  I  was  looking  over  the  things,  he  had 
slipped  out,  and  when  I  came  into  the  street,  he  fell  upon 
me  with  strong  entreaties  to  inspect  his  shop  somewhere 
else,  but  I  told  him  he  was  a  whited  sepulchre,  and  went 
back  to  breakfast. 

Wandering  about  the  town,  we  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
castle  hill.  At  the  top  there  was  a  gateless  and  dilapidated 
arch,  amenable  to  pacific  entry  ;  and  within,  a  picturesque, 
irregular  court-yard,  partially  in  ruins,  with  horse-shoe 
arches,  and  slender  arabesque  columns.  Sauntering  in 
through  the  archway,  we  had  been  passed  by  a  handsome 
maiden,  bearing  a  basket,  whom  we  knew,  by  being 
unveiled,  to  be  a  Jewess.  At  a  modest  distance  we  followed 
the  fair  Susannah  among  the  winding  angles  and  corners  of 
the  ruin.  She  went  in  at  a  low  broad  arch.  Here  we 
were  received  by  a  grizzly-bearded  old  man  in  a  turban, 
with  a  couple  of  large  keys  in  his  belt.  Him  we  saluted 
with  "  essaldm  aleykom  "  and  a  bow. 

"  Waleykom  essaldm^''  he  replied.  "  Ye,  oh  caballeros, 
are  apparently  Spanish,"  he  continued,  in  slow  strangely- 
accented  Castilian,  "  and  are  doubtless  come  to  see  the 
prison." 

"  We  are  come  to  see  the  prison,  truly,  but  we  are  not 
Spanish,  being,  shokr  Alldh^^  of  the  family  of  the  Inkleez." 

"  Thrice  welcome,  sons  of  the  Inkleez  ;  I  am  the  father 

'  Thanks  be  to  God  ! 
176 


The   Children   of  Captivity 

of  the  prison,"  said  he,  making  a  salaam ;  "  and  ye  shall  see 
the  children  of  captivity."  He  then  poured  out  some 
coffee  from  a  pipkin  which  stood  over  a  few  charcoal 
embers.  He  made  many  excuses  for  only  having  one  cup 
in  his  coffee-service,  and  lit  a  long  chibouque,  from  which 
we  each  smoked  a  few  whiffs  after  we  had  taken  a  sip  or 
two  of  the  coffee. 

"  But  who  is  that  fair  maiden  whispering  through   the 
hole  in  the  door  ?  " 

"  She  is  Rahab,  the  daughter  of  one  Joshua,  an  old  rogue, 
who  lately  sold  a  donkey  to  one  of  the  faithful  for  more 
dirhems^  than  it  was  worth,ieven  had  it  not  been  bewitched  ; 
but  bewitched  it  was,  and  within  a  week  was  visited  by  the 
annuller  of  possessions  and  the  reliever  of  burdens  ;  there- 
fore the  old  dog  will  remain  in  my  family  till  the  price  be 
refunded.  His  daughter  often  brings  him  food  in  her 
basket.  The  ill-omened  old  man  fares  well,  with  redun- 
dance ;  and  were  he  starved  a  little,  it  might  hasten  the 
disgorgement  of  his  dishonest  gains  ;  but  heretofore,  when 
I  told  her  she  must  come  no  more,  she  cried  so  bitterly, 
saying  the  old  man  would  die,  that  I  found  it  not  in  my 
heart  to  refuse  her  ;  for  the  she-wolf  of  an  unbelieving 
Jewess  has  fair  eyes,  and  it  pinches  my  heart  to  see  her 
weep.  Daughter  of  the  accursed,  stand  aside,  and  let  these 
princes  of  the  Franks  look  through  the  door." 

A  most  foul,  black,  damp  and  dismal  place  it  was  ;  the 
crowded  prisoners  squatting  about  here  and  there  on  the 
floor,  which  was  like  the  pavement  of  a  stable,  on  an  old- 
fashioned  farm  where  ammonia  is  not  economised.  The 
ancient  Joshua  was  standing  near  the  door,  his  long  white 
beard  wagging  as  he  chewed. 

While  we  were  looking,  there  was  a  noise  at  the  outer 

*  Pieces  of  silver  money. 
177 


Staves  of  Doctrine 

gate,  and  a  fresh  offender  was  brought  in.  He  was  an  old 
acquaintance,  having  only  been  let  out  of  prison  a  week  ago, 
and  now  he  had  been  caught  again,  stealing  a  bunch  of 
carrots  in  the  market-place.  He  was  very  vociferous  in  his 
defence,  but  in  the  most  brilliant  crisis  of  his  harangue,  as 
soon  as  he  had  been  shouldered  opposite  the  prison-door,  it 
opened  with  a  crash  of  bolts  and  chains — they  gave  him  a 
slap  on  the  back,  and  in  he  leapt,  head  foremost,  over  the 
high  stone  threshold  ;  the  door  crashed  to  again,  and  there 
was  an  end  of  him.  There  was  something  irresistibly 
ludicrous  in  the  extremely  sudden  disposal  of  this  turbulent 
purloiner  of  vegetables,  of  which  a  description,  necessarily 
telling  a  number  of  simultaneous  occurrences  one  after 
another,  can  give  but  little  idea. 

We  presented  the  prisoners  with  a  small  contribution  for 
bread,  which  they  clamorously  demanded,  and  gave  the 
father  of  the  prison  a  large  cigar.  Going  out  of  the  castle, 
we  sat  down  on  a  stone  bench  along  the  wall,  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  tower.  Here  a  small  crowd  of  infidels  gathered 
to  see  us  light  our  pipes  with  a  burning  glass,  after  which 
they  wished  to  have  their  fingers  burned  ;  and  we  fell  into 
a  religious  discussion,  carried  on  at  first  by  short  staves  from 
the  Koran,  of  which,  having  exhausted  our  stock  ineffec- 
tually, we  finished  off  the  argument  with  our  long  broom- 
sticks ;  these  we  applied  to  their  shins  ;  for  they  could  not 
keep  their  tempers  when  we  quoted  Mahomet  to  prove  that 
both  Christians  and  Jews  might  be  saved,  if  they  believed  in 
God  and  the  last  day,  and  did  virtuously. 

As  we  descended  through  the  town,  we  were  seized 
upon  by  Israelites  and  carried  into  many  shops,  where  they 
tempted  us ;  but  we  would  not  buy  anything,  none  of 
them  being  equal  to  the  upstairs  establishment,  which  I  had 
seen  before    breakfast.     Thither    we    went   and    instituted 

178 


Oriental  Attire 

a  general  rummage.  Jillabiahs,  haiks,  boornooses,  fez-caps, 
cushions,  &c.  Harry  told  me  that  a  haik  was  considered 
a  most  desirable  thing  by  young  ladies,  as  a  dress  to  go 
away  from  evening  parties  in. 

I  always  wonder,  for  my  part,  why  fair  creatures  are  so 
particular  about  a  costume  to  go  home  in  their  dark 
carriages  ;  but  perhaps  it  is  for  the  sake  of  the  last 
impression  they  leave  on  the  carpeted  door-step,  to  haunt 
the  dreams  of  some  shivering  adorer,  who  stands  in  the 
night  air  till  John  has  slumped  the  tight  door  into  the  panel, 
the  sleepy  horses  plunge  heavily  forward,  and  Lady 
Something  Else's  carriage  stops  the  way. 

While  I  was  wavering  whether  to  lay  out  on  one  of  these 
Moorish  veils,  which  are  of  a  curious  white  woollen  texture, 
striped  or  shot,  or  something  of  that  sort,  with  silk,  the 
cunning  old  Jew  sent  for  his  daughter. 

She  came  up  very  slovenly  attired,  but  they  hung  the  haik 
upon  her,  and  she  looked  so  pretty  in  it  that  I  purchased 
one  without  more  ado.  It,  indeed,  effected  in  her  a  great 
metamorphosis,  covering  up  all  the  slovenly  attire  in  soft 
white  drapery,  and  showing  only  a  most  fascinating  pair  of 
Jewess's  eyes  (worth  more  than  Jews'  eyes),  some  stray 
tresses  of  deepest  jet,  and  part  of  a  forehead  like  rose-tinted 
alabaster. 

Afterwards  we  looked  in  at  the  place  where  they  smoke 
keef;  a  dirty,  sloppy  court-yard,  little  better  than  the 
prison.  The  smokers  were  squatting  about  inhaling  the 
fumes  of  the  very  small  pipes,  and  rolling  up  their  eyes  as 
if  it  was  very  delightful.  In  the  corner  a  man  sat  whittling 
pipe-stems  in  curious  arabesque  patterns.  The  demand 
apparently  exceeded  the  supply,  for  he  had  only  one  on 
hand,  which  was  also  in  hand,  and  on  my  offering  to  buy 
it,  he  said  he  must  finish  it  ;  I  said  I  had  rather  not  wait, 

179  M 


Keef-Smoking 


for  I  could  finish  the  other  end,  copying  the  pattern  of  the 
one  already  done.  We  bought  keef^  which  appears  to  be  a 
small  leaf,  growing  along  a  certain  kind  of  hemp-stalk,  and 
retired  to  our  housetop  to  make  the  experiment. 

Our  imaginations  were  filled  with  a  forecast  of  the 
brilliant  dreams  about  to  draw  their  magic-lantern  shadows 
across  the  white  sheet  of  the  lulled  mind.  I  knew  well 
enough  whither  away  my  spirit  would  flee,  to  be  at  rest,  and 
my  heart  beat  loudly  as  I  lit  the  little  pipeful  of  what 
seemed  very  like  sawdust.  But  though  I  drew  breath  after 
breath,  down  to  the  very  bottom  of  my  lungs,  and  vigorously 
prepared  to  be  much  affected,  I  could  not  perceive  that  it  pro- 
duced any  effect  whatever,  nor  could  Harry.  He  disliked 
the  peculiar  flavour  of  the  herb,  which  I  found  rather  agree- 
able than  otherwise.  After  smoking  three  or  four  pipes, 
the  experiment  was  given  up  as  a  failure. 

In  the  meantime  a  (no  doubt)  lovely  creature,  entirely 
enveloped  in  her  haik^  was  walking  about  on  the  adjoining 
roof.  She  seemed  inclined  to  pay  us,  at  least,  the  compli- 
ment of  curiosity,  and  stared  us  so  much  out  of  countenance 
through  her  eye-holes,  that  we  were  forced  to  go  to  the 
other  side  of  the  roof.  Here  we  saw  a  cat  take  a  run  and 
a  flying-leap  over  the  narrow  street,  and  we  could  not  help 
observing  that  the  gay  Lotharios  of  the  East  no  doubt 
watch  circumspectly  how  the  cat  jumps.  The  houses,  which 
are  very  inaccessible  every  way  but  from  the  top,  stand  so 
close  together,  that  a  good  leaper  might  easily  travel  from 
one  end  of  the  town  to  the  other  on  their  roofs.  They 
are  all  detached  from  one  another,  at  a  distance  which  is  no 
doubt  deemed  safe  by  lethargic  old  Orientals,  bundled  in 
long  robes,  against  all  eaves-droppers.  Besides,  lepers  are 
turned  out  of  Eastern  cities. 

Summoned  downstairs  by  the  Jews  coming  with  what  we 

i8o 


African  Hospitalities 

had  bought  in  the  morning,  they  nearly  cleared  us  out  of 
all  our  little  means ;  for  in  Gibraltar  we  could  not  raise  any 
money,  because  Harry  had  left  all  his  Coutts's  circular- 
notes  packed  up  in  his  portmanto  at  Seville  ;  and  as  there 
appears  to  be  no  vessel  going  back  to  Europe,  it  is  more 
than  probable  that  our  excellent  landladies,  the  Misses 
Duncan,  w^ill  have  to  distrain  upon  our  bodies,  and  sell  us  to 
the  Algerines  to  indemnify  themselves  for  our  sustenance. 

While  I  sat  carving  the  pipe-stem,  our  early  dinner  was 
ready,  after  which  we  wandered  forth  with  Mohammed. 
The  corn-merchant  of  the  felucca  met  us,  shook  hands  with 
great  cordiality,  and  insisted  on  taking  us  to  a  coffee-house 
to  be  treated,  up  a  narrow  flight  of  dark  stairs  into  a  narrow 
court-yard  covered  with  matting.  Here  were  assembled  a 
group  of  chattering  Moors  all  standing,  for  there  was  no 
place  in  the  floor  clean  enough  to  sit  down  upon. 

Coming  down  from  the  cafe,  we  were  met  by  another  of 
our  fellow  passengers,  the  young  Moor  who  had  drawn  the 
mosque-towers  and  fort  in  Harry's  book.  He  also  shook 
hands  most  affectionately,  and  carried  us  over  the  way  to 
his  shop,  for  it  turned  out  he  was  a  barber,  and  not  a  son 
of  the  old  corn-merchant.  His  shop  was  surrounded  by  a 
sort  of  divan,  covered  with  matting,  on  which  we  sat  cross- 
legged  and  smoked  and  drank  more  coffee,  and  talked  as 
well  as  we  could  in  Alcoranic  Arabic,  which  is  very  different 
from  Berber. 

A  lame  man  came  in  and  sat  down.  He  addressed  us  in 
broken  English.  He  was  from  Mogador,  and  had  been  in 
London  with  Batty's  company  as  a  Bedouin.  He  had  been 
in  other  parts  of  "  London,"  viz.,  "  Littlepol  and  My  Sister 
(Liverpool  and  Manchester),  had  married  wife  in  England" 
("not  lowsy  woman");  he  had  had  an  accident  which 
caused  his  leg  to  be  very  "  sick  "   ever  since — had    come 

i8i 


Lovely  Women 


back  to  go  home  to  Mogador,  but  had  here  set  up  as  a 
gunsmith — he  had  a  gun  which  he  could  sell  us  ("not  lowsy 
gun")  at  a  moderate  price. 

The  dark  had  crept  upon  us  unperceived.  A  pious yjz^w/r 
came  by,  and  stopping  on  the  threshold,  swang  about  a 
censer  scattering  incense,  and  vociferating  prayers.  This 
itinerant  mass-performer  was  rewarded  with  a  copper  coin, 
and  departed.  Then  came  a  man  with  a  young  cock.  The 
barber  jumped  up  and  cut  ofF  its  head  with  a  razor  in  a 
most  expeditious  manner,  and  the  fowl-bearer  departed.  I 
asked  if  people  did  not  kill  their  own  chickens  in  this 
country,  and  was  informed  that  many  persons  had  an  objec- 
tion to  shedding  blood,  and  were  in  the  habit  of  sending 
to  him.  Doubtless  he  must  have  shed  a  considerable 
amount  of  the  blood  of  the  faithful,  if  he  shaves  their  heads 
with  the  same  razor  which  decapitates  poultry. 

Mohammed  now  informed  us  that  he  had  heard  there  was 
a  Jewish  wedding  to-night,  whither  he  would  conduct  us  if 
we  pleased.  As  the  Hebrews  hold  open  house  on  these 
occasions  to  all  creeds  and  nations,  we  followed  him  through 
the  dark  winding  streets,  till  we  came  to  an  open  portal, 
where  flaring  torches  gleamed  on  a  swarm  of  people  going 
in  and  out. 

The  supper  was  just  concluding ;  the  tables  were  removed, 
and  we  were  seated  in  the  banqueting-room  in  the  highest 
place,  that  is  to  say,  nearest  the  right-hand  corner  of  the 
nuptial  bed,  which  filled  the  whole  end  of  the  room.  What 
do  you  think  there  was  on  the  bed  ? — why,  about  six-and- 
thirty  Jewesses,  the  loveliest  collection  of  women  huddled 
in  the  smallest  space  I  ever  saw — positively  all  beautiful ; 
and  if  my  heart  had  not  been  otherwise  engaged,  I  should 
not  have  minded  marrying  the  whole  bevy  at  once — foolish, 
indeed  ! — nevertheless,  an  idea  worthy  of  Solomon.     The 

182 


A  Hebrew  Wedding 

young  ladies,  it  appears,  were  only  invited  to  adorn  the 
banquet  with  their  presence,  and  sat  up  there  to  be  looked 
at  while  their  male  relatives  ate.  In  the  furthest  corner, 
as  much  out  of  sight  as  possible,  and  veiled,  sat  the  bride. 
Poor  thing  !  she  must  have  been  very  nearly  smothered 
under  that  cloth,  for  we  could  hardly  breathe,  and  the  heat 
and  crush  were  tremendous  even  to  us,  who  sat  on  a  bench, 
unveiled,  and  unsurrounded  by  a  compact  huddle  of  three 
dozen  fair  friends  on  one  four-poster. 

But  now  there  was  a  stir,  and  the  chief  rabbi  was  con- 
ducted to  the  head  of  the  bench  opposite  us.  In  his  hand 
he  bore  a  fiddle,  on  which  he  began  to  play  across  his  knee, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  bass  ;  but  it  was  a  small  violin,  and  he 
was  a  large  man  with  a  long  white  beard  and  a  pair  of 
silver  spectacles  over  a  very  large  hooked  nose.  When  he 
began  to  play,  the  guests  began  to  howl  an  accompaniment 
with  great  unction.  Shortly  a  ring  was  formed,  and  a 
blooming  Herodias  was  picked  from  that  hot-bed  of  lilies 
and  carnations  to  dance  before  the  company.  The  dance 
seemed  to  be  more  of  gesture  than  steps  ;  she  swayed  about 
her  body,  and  waved  about  her  arms,  but  the  steps  seemed 
hardly  more  than  occasionally  beating  time  with  her  feet. 
The  company  beat  time  with  their  hands,  and  howled  still 
more  than  before,  so  as  nearly  to  drown  the  screeches  of  the 
rabbi' d  fiddle. 

When  the  dance  was  done,  the  bride  was  brought  in 
unveiled  :  she  had  been  smuggled  out  behind  the  bed,  and 
attired  in  the  first  of  a  series  of  suits,  which  she  subsequently 
showed  ofF  in  succession.  She  was  a  beautiful  creature, 
with  that  brilliant  pearly  complexion,  those  lustrous  eyes 
and  glossy  raven  tresses  which  only  Tangerine  Jewesses 
possess  in  such  perfection.  The  bridegroom,  I  am  grieved 
to  say,  was  a  sorryish-looking  individual,  who   seemed  in 

183 


A  Commotion 

no  wise  to  appreciate  the  happiness  he  was  about  to 
undergo  :  he  appeared  nervous  and  melancholy  ;  and,  to 
make  the  matter  worse,  they  set  him  down  in  a  chair  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  shaved  him  before  the  audience. 
After  this  there  was  a  contribution, — whether  to  pay  the 
barber  or  the  supper,  or  to  increase  the  dower  of  the  bride, 
we  could  not  clearly  ascertain  ;  but  we  paid  up  our  bachelor's 
mite  and  departed,  much  gratified,  and  nearly  baked. 

This  morning,  as  we  were  sitting  on  the  brow  of  the 
castle  hill,  there  appeared  to  be  a  commotion  of  some  sort 
in  a  broad  open  space  near  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city  below. 
Going  down  to  see  what  it  was,  we  were  soon  met  by  a 
crowd  coming  up  the  narrow  street.  They  were  headed  by 
musicians  with  tamtams  (a  sort  of  kettle-drums),  and 
trumpets,  and  fifes.  A  Moor,  with  a  white  beard,  led  a 
calf.  Next  came  a  turbaned  figure,  enveloped  in  much  dra- 
pery, riding  on  a  black  horse  with  two  huge  panniers,  out 
of  which  appeared  the  mild,  resigned  faces  of  two  venerable 
old  rams.  A  few  men,  with  very  long  firelock-muskets, 
followed, — the  rest  were  tagrag-and-bobtail.  Under  the 
last  denomination  we  enlisted  ourselves,  and  returned  with 
the  crowd  to  the  castle  hill,  from  which  we  commanded  the 
house  of  the  bride, — for  it  was  a  marriage  procession — at 
least,  one  of  the  preparatory  measures. 

The  band  played  a  strange  discordant  combination  of 
noises,  interrupted  at  irregular  intervals  by  the  explosion 
of  firelocks.  The  firing  of  these  unwieldy  engines  was 
curious.  The  musketeer  about  to  discharge,  balances  him- 
self gingerly  on  his  left  heel,  points  the  muzzle  at  the 
ground,  and  applies  the  smoking  end  of  his  long  saltpetred 
cord — fizz  !  flash  !  bang  !  — and  round  he  spins,  twirled  on 
his  heel  by  the  recoil  of  his  long  rusty  piece.  We  could  see 
inside  the  open  door  a  good  many  veiled  Moriscas.     What 

184 


Moorish  Nuptials 


came  of  the  calf  and  rams  we  did  not  see ;  they  probably  were 
wedding  gifts,  not  sacrifices,  and  destined  to  figure  in  the 
capacity  of  veal  and  mutton  at  some  subsequent  ceremony. 

Waiting  for  the  muezzins  call  to  prayer,  with  many  of 
the  faithful  around  us  in  the  market-place,  a  shoemaker  over 
the  way  invited  us  all  to  his  stall  to  drink  verbena  tea, 
which,  he  assured  us,  along  with  a  pipe  of  keef^  would  have 
the  same  effect  upon  us  as  brandy.  The  yerba  huena 
(Arabice,  luisa)  makes  a  pleasant  infusion,  but  does  not 
possess  any  intoxicating  qualities ;  at  least,  we  departed  as 
sober  as  we  came. 

To-day  I  have  gone  about  in  the  Moorish  costume,  but 
have  not  been  less  stared  at  from  dressing  like  any  other 
Pagan, — a  crimson  skull-cap  with  a  blue  silk  tassel ;  a  loose 
blue  and  white  striped  shirt-like  robe  of  woollen  ;  with  a 
long  cowl,  either  drooping  behind  the  shoulders,  or  pulled 
up  over  the  head.  I  call  the  cowl  long,  because  it  goes  back 
in  a  long  peak  like  the  tail  of  a  fishing-net,  and  has  a  tassel 
at  the  end.  A  pair  of  bare  ankles  and  yellow  slippers  com- 
plete the  costume  as  far  as  visible  to  the  world  at  large. 

It  is  night.  We  have  just  come  in  from  a  most  awful 
scene.  Rolling  clouds  of  smoke,  lit  by  the  red  flash,  and 
rent  and  shaken  by  the  explosion  of  musketry  ;  parties  of 
Arabs  charging  about  here  and  there  beneath  the  sulphurous 
canopy,  shouting  as  well  as  shooting.  What  do  you  think 
it  was  ?  An  insurrection  ?  No — a  wedding  !  The  red 
heifer  and  the  rams  had  only  been  preparatory,  and  to-night 
the  bride  was  to  be  conducted  to  the  house  of  the  bride- 
groom. These  skirmishers  were  merely  making  ready  an 
atmosphere  with  the  smoke  of  their  feux  de  joie  for  the 
procession  to  pass  through. 

At  last  it  appeared.  Around  the  howdah  (a  sort  of  sedan- 
chair,   in  which   the   bride    is   carried)    the    Arab   soldiers 

185 


Taking  Home  the  Bride 

redoubled  their  activity,  charging — one  party  upon  another 
— and  discharging  their  long  guns  into  the  air.  Flaring 
torches  flung  a  flickering  and  uncertain  light  over  the 
tumultuous  but  rather  formidable  chaos  through  which  the 
timid  Moorish  maiden  goes  from  the  nursery  to  housekeep- 
ing. We  could  not  help  thinking  that  in  happy  England 
some  of  our  hardened  and  experienced  spinsters,  who  have 
braved  the  link-boys  and  "  carriage-stops-the- way-coming- 
out  "  struggles  of  three  or  four  seasons,  would  hardly  go 
through  such  a  trial  in  the  cause  of  matrimony :  but  perhaps 
we  are  wrong  ! 


i86 


CHAPTER   XVII 

Gibraltar,  March  14. 

We  were  almost  in  despair  of  ever  getting  away  from 
Tangier,  when  one  morning  a  great  steamer  ran  into  the 
bay.  It  proved  to  be  a  French  war-steamer,  bringing  a 
consul-general ;  for  the  republic  has  made  up  some  little 
difference  with  the  empire  of  Morocco  which  caused  the 
consul  to  retire  some  time  ago.  This  steamer  was  going 
back  to  Gibraltar  next  morning,  so  we  lost  no  time  in 
calling  to  pay  our  respects  to  the  newly-arrived  functionary. 
We  were  shown  up  into  a  Parisian-looking  drawing-room, 
and  a  beau  monsieur^  of  about  thirty-five,  dressed  in  a  smart 
official  uniform,  arose  to  receive  us.  His  good  manners 
could  hardly  prevent  a  look  of  surprise  from  mingling  with 
that  appropriate  listening  face  with  which  he  bowed  and 
stood  waiting  for  us  to  explain  our  errand.  We  felt  that 
in  our  soiled  but  still  flaring  muleteer's  dress  we  did  not 
look  like  the  proper  sort  of  individuals  to  ask  for  a  free 
passage  on  board  a  man-of-war  of  a  foreign  power.  I 
waited  for  Harry  to  say  something,  but  he  said  nothing  ; 
and  so,  after  a  slight  pause,  I  began  to  state  our 
case  : — 

"  S^ns  trop  en  avoir  Pair,  M.  le  Consul,  nous  sommes  des 
gentilshommes  Anglais, — we  are  dressed  as  contrabandiers, 
because  we  have  been  travelling  among  the  mountains  of 
Spain,  and  have  no  other  clothes,  otherwise  we  would  not 

187 


A  Diplomatic  Overture 

have  ventured   to    present    ourselves  attired   so  little  a   la 
modeP 

"  Mais,  messieurs,  n'en  parlez  pas,  je  vous  en  prie.  Cela  se 
voit  fort  bien,  et  du  reste,  c'est  une  mise  assez  commode 
pour  voyager.  Moi  aussi,  j'ai  voyage  en  Espagne.  Is  there 
anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  We  are  au  desespoir  for  a  vessel  to  take  us  back  to 
Europe ;  and  w^e  understand  that  the  steamer  which 
brought  your  excellency  is  going  back  to  Gibraltar  ;  we  are 
ashamed  to  derange  you  on  your  arrival,  but  we  have  no 
alternative." 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  gentlemen  :  ce  sont  des 
petites  complaisances  que  les  nations  se  font  mutuellement." 

With  which,  having  been  thus  made  an  international 
affair,  we  were  handed  two  small  state-papers,  requesting 
the  captain  to  receive  us  aboard  ;  and  we  took  leave  of  our 
polite  benefactor  with  many  thanks. 

That  evening,  taking  a  turn  through  the  city  for  a  fare- 
well look,  some  camels,  with  wilder-looking  Arabs  than 
common,  came  in  at  the  western  gate  from  the  distant 
deserts  of  the  interior.  We  felt,  on  seeing  them,  more  iden- 
tified with  the  real  inhabitants  of  Africa  than  we  had  been 
by  our  intercourse  with  the  tame  barbarians  of  Tangier,  so 
much  handled  by  Europeans  as  to  be  comparatively  harm- 
less, like  Zoological  Garden  lions.  Two  Ethiopians,  in  the 
same  quarter  of  the  city,  which  seems  devoted  to  strangers 
from  the  interior,  sat  cross-legged  on  the  ground,  rocking 
themselves,  and  nodding  their  heads,  and  rolling  up  the 
yellow  whites  of  their  idiotic  eyes  ;  their  thick  lips  were 
dropped,  and  their  dark  brown  oily  features  (without  the 
slightest  vestige  of  consciousness)  shining  in  the  sunset. 
We  asked  what  was  the  matter  with  them,  and  found  they 
had  been  chewing  hasheesh. 

i88 


Right  of  Self-Defence 

But  I  must  get  away  from  Tangier.  And  yet  I  must  tell 
you  of  a  conversation  we  had  with  a  worthy  clergyman,  who 
arrived  the  day  before  our  departure,  and  with  whom  we 
partook  of  our  last  African  tea.  It  was  about  carrying 
arms  or  not,  travelling  in  Spain.  He  was  strongly  against 
the  practice,  for  fear  we  might  shoot  some  of  the  banditti. 
We  said  we  were  much  more  afraid  of  the  banditti  shooting 
us,  and  very  much  preferred  being  on  equal  terms  with 
them. 

"  But,"  said  he,  "  you  have  no  right  to  shoot  a  fellow- 
creature,  merely  to  prevent  yourself  from  being  robbed  ; 
and  if,  as  you  say,  you  are  called  upon  to  go  down  on  your 
face,  and  give  up  your  money,  you  should  do  so  much 
rather  than  shed  blood." 

"  No  doubt,"  I  replied,  "  if  they  amiably  took  what  you 
gave  them,  and  your  word  for  it  that  you  had  no  more 
valuables,  and  did  not  proceed  to  strip  you  of  your  clothes, 
and  take  your  horse  ;  and  if,  after  all,  when  dissatisfied 
with  their  gleanings,  they  had  not  an  unkind  habit  of 
rubbing  the  traveller's  nose  on  a  flinty  road  ;  nay,  sometimes 
kiLing  him  outright — I  agree  that  your  argument  would  be 
good.  But,  as  it  is,  with  all  these  possibilities,  added  to  the 
inconvenience  of  losing  one's  money,  costume,  and  horse, 
my  impression  is,  that  the  most  reasonable  thing,  when  an 
evident  and  acknowledged  bandit  rushes  out  of  the  bushes 
and  seizes  your  rein,  is  not  to  say,  'Sir,  I  have  money  which 
I  am  ready  to  surrender,  and  pistols,  with  which  I  will  fight 
if  you  intend  to  use  me  uncivilly  ; '  for  then  he  would  have 
time  to  throw  his  cloak  over  your  head,  and  whip  his 
knife  into  your  bowels." 

"Then,  sir,  what  is  the  most  reasonable  thing  to  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  shoot  him  down  at  once,  and  do  the  same  to 
the  next  man  "  (suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  and  taking 

189 


Political   Economy  of  Robbery 

my  revolver  out  of  my  belt,  on  which  the  ancient  and 
reverend  gentleman  cried,  "  Oh  !  pray  don't !  "  in  a  tone 
of  some  anxiety),  "and  the  third  man  u^ould  probably  run 
aw^ay." 

"It  is  the  squeamishness  about  shooting  robbers  that 
causes  robbery  to  continue,"  said  Harry.  "  A  friend  of 
mine  lately  killed  two  with  a  right  and  left  rifle-shot  in 
Mexico,  and  the  road  has  been  much  safer  since.  The 
common  view  to  take  is,  that  the  robber  is  to  be  considered 
more  than  the  traveller." 

"Yes  !  "  said  I.  "  Now  the  robber  who  selects  this  pro- 
fession is  (if  he  has  studied  Adam  Smith)  conscious  that 
the  little  industry  required,  the  rapid  profits  returned,  and 
the  exciting  and  romantic  character  of  his  trade,  would  draw 
so  many  persons  into  it,  that  there  would  soon  be  nobody 
left  to  rob,  unless^  observe  me,  unless  there  were  certain 
drawbacks.  One  of  those  drawbacks,  the  bandit  is  well 
aware,  consists  in  the  liability  to  be  shot  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  his  business." 

"But,"  replied  the  reverend  gentleman,  "if  you  shoot 
him,  you  precipitate  a  human  soul  into  eternity  unprepared  ; 
and  what  an  awful  thought  is  that  !  " 

"  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  a  prudent  and  pious  thief, 
going  on  what  he  knew  to  be  a  perilous  expedition  (and  if 
he  was  going  to  rob  us,  who  carry  an  arsenal  of  pistols 
openly,  he  ought  to  pay  us  the  compliment  of  thinking  it  a 
perilous  expedition) — I  am  by  no  means  sure,  I  say,  that 
he  would  not  get  himself  specially  and  provisionally  shrived 
of  his  sins  in  case  of  accident ;  and,  indeed,  I  think  the 
scrupulous  traveller  has  a  right  to  suppose  that  such  would 
be  the  case,  and  despatch  him  accordingly  at  so  advantageous 
a  conjuncture." 

" By-the-bye,"  said   he,  "the    robbers    sometimes   shoot 

190 


The  ''Narval" 

themselves — perhaps  because  they  feel  it  is  part  of  their 
profession  to  be  shot  now  and  then,  and  find  the  scrupulous 
public  object  to  performing  their  legitimate  share  in  the 
transaction.  I  read  in  the  Granada  newspaper,  a  curious 
story  of  the  suicide  of  a  notorious  robber  the  other  day, 
near  Seville.  It  appeared  that  he  had  been  robbing  a  horse- 
dealer,  but  whether  his  desperation  proceeded  from  remorse, 
which  seemed  improbable,  or  from  a  quarrel  with  his  sweet- 
heart, which  is,  perhaps,  still  more  so,  the  writer  had  not 
been  able  to  make  out." 

"  Perhaps  he  shot  himself  by  accident,"  said  I ;  and  the 
conversation  turned. 

Well,  the  pilot's  boat  took  us  aboard  the  Narval,  a  for- 
midable large  black  war-steamer.  We  were  relieved  of 
some  slight  uncertainty,  as  to  how  such  strange  figures 
would  be  received,  by  the  lieutenant,  who  politely  addressed 
us  in  very  good  English,  and  after  making  our  acquaint- 
ance in  about  two  minutes,  introduced  us  to  his  brother 
officers. 

We  breakfasted  with  the  gamelle^^  and  afterwards  smoked 
and  delivered  a  lecture  on  the  English  language,  for  several 
of  the  officers  were  learning  it,  but  our  lieutenant  (Morin) 
had  a  surprisingly  accurate  and  critical  knowledge.  The 
surgeon  was  musical,  and  had  a  book  full  of  Spanish  airs, 
which  he  had  written  after  Rousseau's  method,  which,  he 
says,  is  coming  very  much  into  use.  The  reader  will 
remember  that  Jean  Jacques'  first  effort  was  to  publish  a 
system  of  musical  notation  by  numerical  figures,  instead  of 
those  mysterious  dots  and  lines  ;  but  at  the  time  the  idea 
met  with  no  attention.  The  surgeon  played  the  guitar  and 
sang. 

Morin,  from  English  literature,  came  to  French.      His 

'  Mess. 
191 


Paul  Louis  Courrier 

favourite  author  was  Paul  Louis  Courrier,  a  name  we  had 
neither  of  us  heard.  He  produced  the  volume,  read  us 
some  extracts,  and  seeing  we  very  much  appreciated  them, 
gave  it  us. 

Paul  Louis  Courrier  was  a  republican  and  bitter  anti- 
Bonapartist,  witty  and  whimsical,  amiable,  though  rather 
caustic.  He  was  always  getting  into  quarrels  with  the 
mayor  of  his  commune,  who,  according  to  Courrier's  very 
amusing  account,  disliked  his  politics,  and  encouraged 
everybody  in  bullying  and  cheating  him.  One  might  have 
thought,  from  the  quaint  and  fanciful  way  in  which  he 
complains  of  his  grievances,  that  they  were  next  door  to 
imaginary  ones,  if  it  did  not  appear  in  his  life  that  he  was 
finally  assassinated  by  his  enemies. 

While  our  time  thus  passed  tranquilly  in  the  cabin,  a 
storm  was  brewing  outside.  The  wind  was  dead  ahead, 
and  grew  stronger  and  stronger.  The  motion  began  to  be 
unpleasant,  and  going  on  deck  it  was  found  to  be  raining 
fast.  Shortly  it  rained  faster,  and  then  torrents ;  the 
pitching  of  the  vessel,  too,  had  become  so  unpleasant,  that 
I  could  not  stand  the  cabin  atmosphere. 

The  whole  mess  each  recommended  me  to  take  a  several 
sovereign  thing  against  nausea  ;  but  at  last  it  was  unani- 
mously carried  that,  for  an  English  stomach,  tea  was  the 
sovereignest  thing  of  all ;  so  a  cup  was  made  and  admin- 
istered, and,  I  must  say,  tasted  a  good  deal  like  physic. 

We  had  established  ourselves  in  as  sheltered  a  corner  as 
we  could  find  on  deck,  wrapped  in  our  cloaks,  which  shed 
the  torrents  very  successfully.  However,  as  the  rain  fell 
much  faster  than  it  could  run  off  by  the  sluice-holes  at  the 
sides,  there  was  soon  a  great  flood.  This,  as  the  ship  rolled, 
came  rushing  down  upon  us,  and  washing  back  again  in  a 
tidal  wave  about  a  foot  deep.    Of  course  our  feet  got  rather 

192 


A   Gale 

wet.  I  never  was  in  such  a  storm  of  rain  in  my  life  ;  sky 
as  black  as  ink  ;  great  clouds  sweeping  over  the  dark  sea 
before  a  very  violent  gusty  wind  ;  now  and  then  the  tops  of 
the  African  mountains  looking  down  through  a  break  in  the 
mist.  The  moan  of  the  gale  through  the  vibrating  shrouds, 
the  splash  of  the  paddles,  and  the  plank-deafened  metallic 
din  of  machinery  straining  against  the  tempest,  made  a  sort 
of  melancholy,  unmusical  accompaniment  to  our  uncomfort, 
which  was  so  complete,  and  on  so  grand  a  scale,  as  to  gather 
a  sort  of  consolation  from  its  own  sublimity. 

You  may  imagine  what  sort  of  work  it  was,  from  the  fact 
of  our  taking  about  nine  hours  to  go  thirty  miles  in  a  great 
steamer.  However,  there  is  an  end  to  all  things,  and  we 
got  ashore  before  gunfire. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  it  rained  and  blew  great 
guns.  As  we  sat  painting,  Morin  came  in  ;  we  asked  him  to 
dine,  and  he  greatly  enlivened  our  evening.  I  gave  him  my 
Sevillian  navaja  to  cut  the  pages  of  his  new  Courrier  when 
he  got  to  Paris.  Our  conversation  with  Morin  shifted  from 
French  to  English,  and  from  English  to  French,  as  often  as 
the  speaker  came  to  a  difficulty  and  relapsed  into  his  own 
language  to  explain  himself  better. 

To-day  (Monday)  is  our  last  day,  and  now  or  never  we 
must  see  the  wonders  of  the  Rock.  We  were  waked  early 
by  Morin,  who  came  to  say  his  adieux  and  mille  chases.  He, 
of  course,  had  to  sleep  on  shore  ;  because  the  fortress  is 
locked  up  at  sunset,  and  nobody  can  go  in  or  out  on  pain  of 
death.  Since  breakfast  I  have  been  out  buying  a  variety  of 
things — tape,  a  packing-needle,  a  pair  of  spurs  (English  spurs 
are  much  sharper  than  Spanish,  and  we  are  preparing  a  plea- 
sant little  surprise  for  the  flanks  of  our  lazy  ponies),  half-a- 
pound  of  gunpowder,  a  pencil,  Szc.  The  diplomatic  waiter 
has  gone  to  get  us  permission  to  see  the  galleries. 


Galleries  of  the  Rock 

Well,  the  diplomate  of  the  hotel  brought  us  our  permit, 
and  we  climbed  one  of  the  steep  staircase  streets,  and  entered 
beneath  the  Arabesque  arch  of  an  old  Moorish  castle,  which 
stands  forth,  picturesque  and  ruinous,  above  the  smug, 
scientific  masses  of  modern  fortification.  The  court-yard 
within  seemed  full  of  guard-houses  ;  here  the  British  soldier 
smokes  clay-pipes,  and  drinks  beer,  with  an  accompaniment 
of  familiar  British  imprecations,  where  once  the  Moslem 
warriors,  cased  in  Cordovan  steel,  drank  their  coff^ee  and 
stroked  their  beards  with  pious  inshalldhs  and  other  solemn 
ejaculations. 

An  Irish  artillery  corporal  took  charge  of  us — a  very  civil 
engineer.  He  conducted  us  along  zig-zag  passages,  among 
fortifications  with  cannons  here  and  there,  which  have  left 
only  a  vague  impression  on  my  mind,  but  I  dare  say  there 
were  ravelins,  and  curtains,  and  covered  ways,  and  counter- 
scarps enough,  if  described  accurately,  to  be  quite  impreg- 
nable to  any  civilian  understanding.  At  length  we  came  to 
a  black  arch,  and  plunged  into  the  rock.  Our  corporal  led 
us  up  dark,  steep,  dripping,  sloppy  caverns — the  celebrated 
galleries  of  Gibraltar.  Here  and  there,  in  the  ascent,  were 
deep-niched  portholes,  through  which,  at  airy  depth,  burst 
in  upon  the  darkness,  what  seemed  by  contrast  bright  views 
of  sea  and  mountain,  though  the  day  was  rainy  and  dark  and 
windy.  Of  course,  in  each  port-hole  was  a  great  gun.  After 
getting  very  hot  and  steamy  in  the  damp  caverns,  we 
emerged  on  a  point  where  there  was  a  mighty  rushing  wind, 
pleasant  and  cool,  but  so  violent  that  it  seemed  likely  to  blow 
us  off  the  precipice.  Here  we  stood,  keeping  our  feet  as 
well  as  we  could,  on  Calpe's  brow  to  admire  the  view. 

This  northern  extremity  of  the  rock  breaks  away  from 
Spain  with  an  abrupt  precipice  of  goodness  knows  how  many 
hundred  feet,  as  if  solidly  resolved  to  have  nothing  whatever 

194 


St.  George's  Hall 

to  do  with  the  adjacent  country,  to  which  it  is  only  attached 
by  a  low  strip  of  tawny  sand.     On  either  side  the  leaden 

"  Waters  chafe  to  meet, 
But  pause  and  crouch  beneath  her  feet." 

This  quotation  led  us  to  discuss  whether  Gibraltar  was  to 
be  considered  the  Corinth  of  the  moderns,  or  Corinth  the 
Gibraltar  of  the  ancients  ;  and  then  (as  we  entered  St. 
George's  Hall,  a  great  frontal  sinus  in  the  forehead  of  the 
Rock),  having  been  carried  back  upon  history,  we  naturally 
proceeded  to  carry  ourselves  forward  upon  futurity.  It  was 
agreed,  that  as  long  as  England  lasted,  Gibraltar  would  never 
yield  ;  but  that  when  Macaulay's  "  Australian  native  sat 
upon  his  broken  arch  of  London  Bridge  to  sketch  the  ruins 
of  St.  Paul's,"  some  civilised  barbarian  of  somewhere  else 
might  come  to  the  deserted  Rock. 

He  will  wind  his  way,  in  some  fear  of  wild  beasts,  up  the 
galleries,  and  come  to  what  some  ancient  record  of  the  place 
(for  we  will  suppose  him  an  antiquarian  savage)  informs  him 
"  was  called  by  that  warlike  nation,  the  Britons,  the  hall  of 
St.  George,  their  patron  saint,  a  fabulous  warrior-god.  I 
dare  say  they  sacrificed  to  him  here,  perhaps  human  victims, 
for  they  mingled  many  barbarous  customs  of  remotest  anti- 
quity with  their  faint  and  inefficient  notions  of  religion." 
Here  he  will  stride  across  the  cavern  thoughtfully,  as  if  to 
measure  its  size,  and  stumbling  over  the  rusty  old  remains 
of  a  32-pounder,  awake  from  his  reverie  and  continue, 
"Truly,  they  must  have  hacked  and  hewed  with  great  perse- 
verance to  hollow  out  these  halls  and  passages  in  the  solid 
stone,  and  much  energy  and  zeal  were  thrown  away  in  the 
worship  of  that  once  powerful  but  now  broken-down  demon, 
War.     In  the  days  when  the  nations  were  so  little  aware  of 

195  N 


We  take  up  our  Parabola 

their  interests  as  to  send  out  great  ships  to  batter  one  an- 
other to  pieces  with  these  deadly  engines,  whose  name  I 
forget,"  kicking  the  old  cannon  again,  "  a  great  master  of 
those  hellish  arts,  called  Nelson,  is  said  to  have  feasted  in 
this  cave — doubtless,  after  a  sacrifice  of  human  flesh.  Yet 
this  monster,  at  the  time,  was  the  idol  of  popularity  among 
his  people.  It  seems  to  me  that  soon  after  his  era,  and,  by 
the  way,  the  great  Frank  Napoleon's  bloody  career,  that  the 
nations  began  to  conceive  peace  was  an  advantage,  led  by  one 
Cobden,  also  celebrated  for  having  introduced  corn  into  his 
country,  which  formerly  had  only  potatoes — both  important 
vegetables,  I  fancy,  before  we  discovered  the  system  of  feed- 
ing by  electricity." 

Our  Irish  gunner  seemed  much  taken  aback  by  these 
anticipations,  and  I  have  little  doubt,  in  confidence,  thought 
us  slightly  deranged.  But  to  reassure  him,  we  began  to 
cross-question  him  with  scientific  projectile  questions  in  gun- 
nery, and  from  that  branched  off  to  personal  inquiries  as  to 
his  duties,  and  the  sort  of  life  on  the  Rock  ;  for  the  private 
soldiers  are  not  allowed  to  go  beyond  the  Spanish  lines.  He 
said  it  was  not  a  disagreeable  life,  but  they  now  and  then 
had  some  very  "  witty  fatiggs,"  which  we  found  out  to  be 
weighty  fatigues,  such  as  taking  guns  up  and  down,  &c. 

To-morrow  we  set  off  for  Malaga  as  early  as  we  can  get 
our  limited  washing  back  from  the  laundress,  being,  in  spite 
of  our  true  British  pride  and  glory  in  the  spot,  rather  sick 
of  Gibraltar. 


196 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

Malaga,  March  20. 
Upon  the  road  again,  and,  after  our  little  oasis  of  decent 
living  in  Gibraltar  and  Africa,  restored  to  the  romantic 
luxury  of  Spanish  hunger  and  Spanish  fleas.  Harry  woke 
me  early  on  Tuesday  morning,  and  made  me  get  up,  though 
I  murmured  in  my  sleep  about  the  impossibility  of  getting 
away  while  our  linen  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  faithless 
lavandera.  However,  when  I  was  fairly  awake  and  up,  I 
joined  him  in  carambaing  severely  at  the  chamber-maid. 
Such,  indeed,  was  the  force  of  our  language,  that  it  brought 
the  shirts  and  stockings  home  wringing  wet,  and  of  course 
we  had  to  send  them  back.  While  they  were  being  ironed 
we  ate  our  breakfasts,  and  had  the  last  touch  put  to 
our  passports,  so  that  by  the  time  our  shifts  returned,  we 
were  prepared  to  stuff  them  into  the  alforjas  and  be  off. 

Leading  our  ponies  out  of  the  stables,  where  they  had 
been  nearly  a  fortnight,  we  found  them  so  stiff  that  they 
could  hardly  stir,  and  I  actually  thought  mine  had  had  his 
back  broken  by  some  unfair  usage,  and  accordingly  began  to 
revile  the  stable-keeper — having  my  suspicions  of  him  the 
more  because  he  had  wanted  to  buy  our  ponies  ;  and  now  I 
thought  he  had  made  them  drunk  to  prevent  their  going 
away,  for  they  staggered  about,  and  seemed,  moreover,  as 
much  excited  in  their  minds  as  they  were  infirm  upon  their 
legs. 

197 


0(a)tium 


These  suspicions,  which  were  of  course  eminently  absurd 
and  unstable-minded,  wore  off  as  our  little  beasts,  recovering 
the  use  of  their  legs  (but  not  the  serenity  of  their  minds), 
began  to  prance,  and  kick,  and  rear,  and  jump  bodily  three 
or  four  feet  up  in  the  air,  greatly  endangering  the  equilibrium 
of  the  cloaks,  and  mantaSy  and  alforjas^  piled  upon  their 
backs. 

The  Moor,  at  last,  in  an  extra  fit  of  violence,  managed  to 
throw  himself  down,  and  scatter  all  that  was  on  him  in  the 
dust.  It  occurred  to  us,  as  we  had  got  out  of  the  town,  that 
if  we  were  to  mount,  eleven  stone  or  so  additional  on  their 
backs  might  add  to  the  gravity  of  their  deportment.  This 
succeeded  very  tolerably,  and  having  passed  the  Spanish 
lines  (where  they  did  not  search  us,  I  am  happy  to  say,  for  I 
had  a  lot  of  Cavendish  tobacco),  we  came  to  deep  sandy 
roads,  which  soon  took  the  extra  shine  out  of  our  animals, 
whom  a  crapulence  of  British  corn,  without  any  work,  had 
thus  stimulated  to  rebellion — oats  being  much  stronger 
food  than  their  accustomed  barley. 

Turning  back  for  a  farewell  glance  at  the  Rock,  it  struck 
us  that  it  was  rather  in  the  form  of  a  tomahawk,  and  it  was 
suggested  that  it  might  as  well  have  been  called  Scalpe  instead 
of  Calpe.  The  handle  is,  of  course,  the  low  end  at  the  south. 
However,  it  was  the  sharp-notched  edge  seen  in  perspective 
which  gave  the  idea. 

The  deep  sandy  road  along  which  we  were  riding  was,  in 
fact,  the  beach  of  the  sea,  and  for  firmer  footing  I  wanted  to 
ride  on  the  narrow  rim  of  wet  sand  left  by  the  slight  ebb  : 
but  to  this  the  Moor,  for  whose  sole  benefit  the  design 
had  been  entertained,  resolutely  objected,  being  strongly  of 
opinion  that  some  of  the  waves  that  kept  bellowing  and 
smacking  their  foamy  lips,  would  certainly  eat  him  up 
at  a  mouthful  if  he  gave  them  a  chance. 

198 


The   Wreck 

So  I,  being  of  course  nearly  as  obstinate  and  unreasonable 
as  himself,  spurred  him,  and  kicked  him,  and  buffeted  him, 
and  got  him  very  nearly  as  foamy  and  lathery  as  the  sea,  all 
for  his  own  sake  (originally),  and  to  save  him  trouble.  I 
could  not  help  being  reminded  of  philanthropists,  and 
abolitionists,    and    Exeter  Hall,  and  religious  persecutions. 

These  speculations  vi^ere  put  out  of  joint  by  arriving  at  a 
place  where  a  great  ship  had  been  wrecked,  evidently  very 
recently.  Huge  flakes  of  massive,  closely-pegged  plank- 
work,  torn  to  ragged  pieces  like  brown  paper  ;  masts,  sails, 
and  cordage,  strewn  about  the  beach,  with  the  sea  tumbling 
and  roaring  and  booming  close  by  the  remains  of  what  it 
had  demolished,  and  hungry  for  more.  Some  men  on  horse- 
back, who  came  from  Gibraltar  to  see  after  her,  said  she  had 
gone  to  pieces  in  the  great  gale  on  Sunday  (the  day,  by  the 
way,  we  came  over  from  Africa),  and  her  cargo  was  all 
lost. 

We  inquired  of  the  men  the  way  and  distance  to  Estepona. 
The  distance  appeared  much  further  than  we  had  calculated 
on,  and  the  way  turned  inland  from  the  beach,  for  the  river 
Guadiaro  could  not  be  forded  at  its  mouth,  and  we  must  go 
about  a  league  inland  to  find  a  ferry.  So  we  turned  inland 
through  mazy  and  uncertain  paths  across  the  dehesa,  which, 
with  its  fragrant  flowers  and  bushes,  here  sloped  down  to 
the  sea, 

"  It  seems  a  pity,"  said  Harry,  with  a  sigh,  "  that  so 
many  sweet  and  pretty  things  should  be  almost  thrown 
away.  This  is  quite  a  fancy-sample  of  a  wilderness,  such  as 
Don  Quixote's  Cardenios,  and  Marcellas,  and  Dorotheas, 
might  have  chosen  to  hide  their  woes  in." 

"  I  have  an  idea,"  said  I,  interrupting  him  ;  "  we  will  put 
some  of  them  at  least  (gathering  a  handful  of  lilies,  and 
anemones,  and  other  unknown  flowers)  to  some  poetical  use, 

199 


A   Floral   Rite 

and  that  is  the  legitimate  end  of  flowers."  (Here  the  other 
honourable  gentleman  was  understood  to  suggest,  "  Bees 
also,  perhaps ! ")  "  Well,  honey  is  the  food  of  poets." 
("  Possibly  prose  writers  also,"  says  he.)  "  However  that 
may  be,"  continued  I,  overriding  these  unimportant  pro- 
tests in  the  impetus  of  my  enthusiasm,  "  here  shall  be  per- 
formed a  rite," — kneeling  down  before  a  smooth  sandy 
place,  and  with  my  dagger  tracing  a  certain  lady's  name 
upon  the  ground  (while  I  was  doing  which,  the  Moor  also 
went  down  on  his  knees  three  times — wishing  very  much  to 
have  a  roll  in  the  warm  sun-baked  sand),  and  on  each  letter 
of  that  name  I  strewed  a  little  heap  of  the  wild  flowers  of 
the  wilderness,  that  the  winds  and  the  rain  might  be  longer 
in  wearing  that  frail  monument  away. 

Well,  we  jogged  on,  and  on  Guadiaro's  further  bank 
nearly  came  to  dagger's-drawings  with  the  ferryman  about 
some  inconsiderable  amount  of  which  he  felt  it  his  privilege 
to  cheat  us. 

After  this  we  approached  the  coast  again,  and  got  into 
very  rough  riding  among  mountain-tops  from  which  we  saw 
the  white  towers  of  Estepona  rising  from  the  blue  sea  at  a 
great  distance — in  fact,  a  hopeless  distance,  as  it  was  sloping 
towards  sunset.  However,  we  plunged  recklessly  down 
almost  impassable  gorges  and  lost  ourselves  in  deep  valleys 
(and  were  shouted  at  by  peasants  from  the  other  side  of 
one,  for  riding  over  precipitous,  swampy  barley-fields),  and 
climbed  out  again,  and  at  last,  when  it  was  dark,  scram- 
bled down  to  the  sea-side  where  we  found  a  fort  and  a 
vent a. 

Here  we  bought  some  fish  of  a  little  boy  with  a  basket. 
A  great  heap  of  corn  had  to  be  moved  out  of  the  only  spare 
place  where  we  could  sleep.  They  gave  us  one  large  mat- 
tress, and  after  supper  we  went  to  bed,  I  in  my  jillabiah 

200 


Venta  del  Castillo 

and  cloak,  and  Harry  more  as  a  Christian.  Some  way,  I 
fancy,  the  fleas  do  not  bite  so  much  when  one  sleeps  in 
one's  clothes.  As  our  venta  was  what  Major  Pendennis's 
man  would  have  called  "  rayther  a  shy  place,"  I  went  to 
sleep  with  my  revolver  in  my  hand — by  the  way,  I  do 
usually  lay  my  little  arsenal  of  pistols  and  dagger  by  me — 
but  this  night,  for  greater  security  that  it  should  not 
be  removed,  I  had  kept  it  in  my  hand.  A  dangerous 
bedfellow. 

Before  my  going  to  sleep,  the  family  had  come  crouching 
through  our  room  to  theirs,  of  which  this  was  an  ante- 
chamber without  a  door.  However,  I  had  pinned  up  a  quilt 
with  the  forks  of  supper,  and  under  this  they  had  come, 
stepping  noiselessly,  and  gone  to  bed  in  the  dark.  They 
did  not  seem  over-respectable  people,  and  perhaps  this  dark 
and  hushed  procession  had  given  my  subsequent  dreams  a 
turn  ;  for  in  the  middle  of  the  night  I  woke  up  suddenly, 
feeling  myself  touched,  grabbled  for  my  revolver,  which  had 
got  lost  among  the  bed-clothes  and  cloaks  and  manias^  and 
then  in  a  sort  of  somnolent  despair  hit  out  wildly  in  the 
dark,  and  pitched  into  Harry,  who  woke  up,  and  after 
mutual  explanations,  we  went  to  sleep  again. 

Next  morning  before  daybreak  I  was  up — (and  ye  shall 
note,  that  when  a  man  sleepeth  in  his  clothes,  getting  up 
becometh  a  simpler  operation,  for  he  hath  but  to  arise  and 
shake  himself  and  his  toilet  is  accomplished,  which  avoid- 
ance of  complicities  much  encourageth  early  rising) — and, 
after  objurgating  the  drowsy  host  and  shrill  hostess  for  not 
having  a  chocolate-pot,  had  to  make  it  (we  luckily  carried 
chocolate  with  us)  with  a  pipkin  and  a  wooden  spoon,  and 
burnt  my  fingers  with  the  hot  splashes.  Harry  was  up  by 
the  time  it  was  made,  and  we  ate  it  before  the  venta 
door. 

201 


A   Robber  Host 

Now,  as  we  prepared  to  go,  and  asked  for  our  account, 
though  we  had  eaten  our  own  fish,  and  drunk  our  own  cho- 
colate, and  there  was  nothing  to  pay  for  but  the  cooking  of 
the  fish,  the  mattress,  and  the  two  horses,  say,  a  real  and  a 
half  for  the  cooking,  four  reals  for  the  bed,  and  six  reals  for' 
the  two  ponies,  altogether  eleven  and  a  half  reals  (about 
half-a-crown),  our  fat  thief  of  a  landlord  charged  us  nine- 
teen. This  we  refused  to  pay,  telling  him  we  were  no 
absurd  spendthrifts  from  Gibraltar,  but  prudent  men,  who 
had  travelled  through  all  the  Spains,  seeing  men  and  ventas^ 
and  acquiring  an  accurate  knowledge  of  prices. 

"  You  are  Englishmen,  and  that  is  sufficient  for  me.  I 
have  known  a  ventero  to  charge  a  dollar  to  an  English- 
man for  entering  his  venta  and  drinking  a  glass  of 
water." 

"  That  ventero  was  a  thief,  and  that  Englishman  was  a 
fool.  We  are  not  fools,  and  we  hope  you  are  not  a  thief. 
One  thing  is  certain,  we  will  give  you  no  more  than  twelve 
reals.^'' 

Here  the  money  was  thrown  on  the  ground,  and  we  made 
as  to  ride  away. 

"You  shall  not  depart  thus — thieves  yourselves  and 
niggards,"  said  the  fat  host,  who  had  been  stimulated  in 
the  meantime  by  the  shrill  hostess,  and  advanced  to  seize 
Harry's  bridle. 

Here  Harry  dismounted  in  haste  and  drew  a  pistol ; 
whereat  all  the  tag-rag  of  the  venta  ran  like  rabbits  into  the 
door,  and  the  master  retreated  ;  the  mo%o  de  la  cuadra^  the 
bravest  man  of  the  party,  stood  his  ground,  and  took  up  a 
great  stone.  While  the  pistol  yet  remained  directed 
towards  the  still  uplifted-stone,  another  power  entered  the 
field,  in  the  person  of  an  aged  and  rather  shaky  old  corporal 
of  the  carabineers  in  the  adjoining  fort.     However,  Harry 

202 


What  Might  Have   Happened 

resisted  his  attempts  at  mediation,  and  called  him  an  old 
donkey,  which,  as  a  man  in  authority,  seemed  quite  to  take 
him  aback. 

During  the  temporary  lull,  I  may  go  into  a  slight  diver- 
sion, describing  what  you  have  a  right  to  expect  would  be 
the  result  of  such  an  unwarranted  and  rash  appeal  to  arms. 
The  corporal,  finding  two  refractory  strangers  who  will  not 
pay  the  reckoning  of  his  friend  and  neighbour,  and  who,  to 
make  the  matter  worse,  address  himself  as  an  old  donkey, 
of  course  calls  out  the  guard. 

Nine  men,  in  seedy  uniform,  appear  with  carabines,  and 
take  us  into  custody.  We  are  put  in  a  basket  and  hoisted 
up  into  the  entrance  hole  of  the  tower,  high  above  the 
ground.  The  guard  return  to  their  breakfast,  of  which, 
with  customary  Spanish  politeness,  they  beg  us  to  partake  : 
we  civilly  decline  ;  but  finding  them  not  bad  fellows,  enter 
into  conversational  relations,  and  finally  win  the  corporal's 
heart  with  a  long  cigar. 

Meanwhile  we  put  in  a  fair  statement  of  our  case  to  a 
now  willing  audience.  They  agree  that,  to  be  sure,  it  was 
a  villainous  imposition  ;  and,  moreover,  the  ventero  always 
cheats  them  in  their  aguardiente.  We  do  a  portrait  of  the 
corporal  and  a  caricature  of  the  ventero^  and,  moreover, 
doctor  a  sick  carabineer,  who  has  a  fever,  and  lies  in  a 
dark  corner  of  the  donjon.  Finally,  we  sally  forth  by  the 
basket,  the  corporal  (having  been  told  he  is  the  most 
valiant  corporal  in  Spain,  or  the  known  world,  which  is  the 
same  thing)  blusters  for  us,  and  threatens  the  ventero,  who 
takes  the  twelve  reals,  and  we  find  we  have  gained  six  reals 
and  an  adventure  at  the  expense  of  half  a  day's  journey,  and 
a  good  many  cigars. 

However,  this  little  history,  which,  if  expanded  with  much 
interesting  discourse,  might  look  very  well  in  print,  would 

203 


What  Did  Happen 

not  be,  strictly  speaking,  historical,  except  in  Sir  Robert 
Walpole's  sense  of  the  word,  as  it  did  not — in  confidence — 
take  place  :  for,  seeing  that  the  sun  was  going  up  upon  our 
wrath,  and  that  we  were  likely  to  lose  time,  and  only  get 
deeper  into  the  mess,  I  recommended  Harry  to  pay  the 
money,  and  come  away,  though  I  had  previously  been  of 
opinion,  that  if  he  had  sat  on  his  pony,  and  kept  his  rein 
clear  by  means  of  his  pistol,  we  might  have  gone  away,  and 
left  the  money  on  the  neutral  ground.  However,  we  had  our 
scene,  and  perhaps  it  afforded  its  fourteen-penn'orth  and 
twenty  minutes'  worth  of  amusement. 

Leaving  the  Venta  del  Castillo,  our  road  ran  along  the 
bay  to  Estepona,  where  we  baited  in  a  respectable  posada^ 
and  breakfasted  on  turkeys'  eggs  (not  bad  things),  fried 
bread,  and  the  famous  amber  wine  of  the  place,  made  in  the 
posadas  own  vineyard.  The  hostess  and  her  sister,  cheerful 
young  women,  entertained  us  with  much  pleasant  badi- 
nage while  our  breakfast  was  being  cooked  and  eaten,  and 
wished  to  have  their  portraits  taken  ;  but  we  said  it  was  a 
long  ride  to  Marbella,  and  we  must  press  on. 

To-day  we  had  to  pass  a  more  than  infernal  number  of 
rivers ;  eleven  swollen  torrents  rushing  down  from  the 
precipitous  range  of  mountains  which  skirt  the  coast. 
These  torrents  were  all  level  with  the  banks,  some  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  wide,  running  like  salmon-leaps  ;  and 
as  the  ground  had  been  much  torn  and  cut  about  by  the 
recent  floods  (which  must  have  been  serious,  for  uprooted 
trees  were  lying  about  in  all  directions,  and  great  tracts  of 
the  dehesa  were  smeared  with  mud  and  sand),  we  had  no 
assurance  that  the  current — usually  up  to  our  ponies' 
breasts — might  not  deepen  into  unforeseen  channels,  and 
swamp  us  in  the  surging  tide.  Harry,  who  got  used  to 
fording  unknown  rivers  in  the  American  deserts,  took  the 

204 


A   Ruined  City 


lead,  selecting  the  most  turbulent  places  in  the  surface  as 
the  safest ;  for,  as  another  great  navigator  says, — 

"  Passions  are  likened  best  to  floods  and  streams, 
The  shallow  murmur,  but  the  deep  are  dumb  ; " ' 

and  we  met  with  no  worse  accident  than  wetting  our  feet, 
and  the  bottoms  of  our  saddle-bags. 

By  the  side  of  the  sea,  between  Estepona  and  Marbella, 
we  rode  among  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  town, — whether  of 
the  Romans  or  the  Moors,  we  could  not  say  ;  perhaps  a  little 
of  both.  Nevertheless,  our  want  of  antiquarian  erudition 
did  not  prevent  us  moralising  on  the  old  masses  of  grey 
masonry,  which  the  excellent  grouting-cement  of  other  days 
still  holds  together  in  grotesque  forms  of  dilapidation,  while 
around  them  and  among  them  branch  and  bloom  the  shrubs 
of  the  dehesa. 

"  Where  now  the  wilderness  is  silent,  save  to  the  rustle 
of  the  palmlta  stem,  the  hum  of  bees  and  the  sailing  sea- 
bird's  scream,  there  were  noisy  streets,  and  bustling  market- 
places, and  columned  angles  of  public  buildings,  at  which 
hook-nosed,  hawk-eyed  Romans  discussed  the  lately  arrived 
proconsul.  Or  here  arose  the  mosque,  and  shrill  tnuezzins 
called  the  faithful  to  prayer,  and  kneeling  Moslems  muttered 
and  bobbed  their  turbaned  heads  to  the  carpeted  level  of 
their  slipperless  feet. 

Now,  whatever  it  may  have  been,  the  place  is  deserted  ; 
not  a  habitation  of  man  within  miles  of  it.  The  wreck  of 
ages  reminded  us  of  the  wreck  we  saw  on  the  other  side  of 
Estepona. 

Entering  Marbella,  and  inquiring  for  the  Posada  de  la 
Corona^  we  were  directed  this  way  and  that  way  by  inter- 

'  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 
205 


Nasal  Cadence 

ested  parties,  and  at  last  had  to  give  up  looking  for  it,  and 
take  up  with  the  San  yose^  which  we  stumbled  upon  in  our 
fruitless  search  for  the  one  recommended  by  Ford.  Before 
the  gateway  a  swaggering  carabineer  demanded  our  pass- 
ports. We  said  he  had  no  business  to  be  in  such  a  hurry, 
and  that  at  night  they  would  go  in  the  proper  way  to  the 
jefe  politico  (political  chief)  ;  but  he  began  to  bluster  vio- 
lently, and  be  very  troublesome,  and  evinced  himself  to  be 
the  worse  for  liquor  ;  so  we  told  him  he  was  an  impudent 
borracho  (sot),  and  went  to  the  stables,  leaving  him  in  the 
courtyard  to  vent  his  offended  military  dignity  on  the  land- 
lady, who  seemed  rather  afraid  of  him.  In  the  stables  we  had 
a  parallel  scene  of  dissension  between  the  Moor  and  another 
horse.  Afterwards,  with  much  trouble,  we  got  some  sar- 
dines for  supper,  and  I  helped  the  posadera  to  salt  and  flour 
their  shiny  sides  for  the  frying-pan. 

Next  morning  we  were  off  early,  though  the  weather  was 
not  very  promising,  and  rode  along  heavy  sandy  shores  in  a 
drizzling  rain  (I  in  my  M.oonsh  Ji/Iabiah^  with  the  hood  up, 
which  kept  me  pretty  dry),  with  nothing  to  enliven  the  road 
except  a  wearisome  succession  of  watch-towers,  at  about 
two  miles'  distance  from  one  another.  The  weather 
cleared  up. 

I  had  made  a  paper  cigar,  and  had  dropped  the  rein  on 
the  Moor's  neck,  to  strike  a  light,  when  he  suddenly  started 
off,  and  plunging  down  a  steep  place,  threw  me  on  my  face. 
My  nose  was  considerably  bruised,  though  I  fell  only  on 
sand.  If  it  had  been  anything  harder,  I  don't  think  I  should 
have  got  up  with  any  nose  at  all. 

At  Fuengirola  we  baited  at  a  new  clean  posada^  whose 
master  spoke  to  us  in  English  ;  he  was  a  brisk  little  man 
from  Gibraltar,  and  had  a  most  melancholy-looking  blind 
wife.     I    was  rather  tired,  and  lay    down    on   the  sanded 

206 


Ben  el  Medina 

kitchen  floor  before  the  fire,  ate  some  bread  and  cold   sar- 
dines, and  smoked  a  pipe  ;  after  which  a  short  nap. 

Roused  up  to  go  on  again,  in  hopes  of  getting  to  Malaga 
that  night,  we  went  along,  till  some  fellow-travellers  we 
overtook  on  the  road  told  us  we  must  turn  inland  up  the 
mountains,  as  the  rocks  rose  out  of  the  water,  and  we  could 
not  get  round,  the  tide  being  high.  After  toiling  up  moun- 
tain-roads some  time,  a  picturesque  village  came  in  sight  ; 
and  as  Malaga  was  two  or  three  leagues  further,  with  bad 
roads,  and  not  much  more  daylight,  and  weary  beasts,  which 
had  been  wading  all  day  in  the  deep  loose  sand  of  the  shore, 
we  gave  up  all  idea  of  going  farther. 

So  we  turned  our  ponies  adrift,  and  sat  down  among  the 
rocks  to  sketch  the  village,  which  some  passers-by  told  us 
was  Ben  el  Medina.  Its  church  stands  on  a  rock-ridge,  the 
village  in  the  cleft  below,  and  there  were  two  convenient 
palm-trees  in  the  fore-ground.  Harry,  who  is  hopeless  of 
colouring,  did  a  creditable  sketch  in  less  ambitious  sepia.  I 
got  tired  of  the  village,  and  drew  my  pony,  as  he  scrambled 
among  the  aloe-spiked  rocks,  nibbling  at  the  tufts  of  grass. 
As  the  sun  descended,  and  the  peasants  came  flocking  into 
the  village  with  their  cattle,  we  joined  the  rout.  I  don't 
think  there  is  anything  to  relate  about  the  posada  more  re- 
markable than  that  they  gave  us  some  walnuts  rather  bigger 
than  hen's  eggs. 

Next  morning  we  wound  over  the  ups  and  downs  of  the 
mountain  promontory  we  were  crossing,  till  we  came  to  a 
village  on  the  brow  overlooking  a  narrow  plain  between  the 
hills  and  the  sea,  at  the  further  end  of  which  the  towers  of 
Malaga  appeared.  This  plain  was  shockingly  muddy,  and 
there  was  an  impassably  flooded  river,  so  we  had  to  turn  out 
of  our  way  to  find  a  ferry.  The  Moor  was  much  alarmed  at 
the  idea  of  crossing,  and  I  had  to  bandage  his  eyes  with  my 
pocket-handkerchief. 

207 


Malaga 

Before  reaching  Malaga  we  sat  down  to  eat  some  bread 
and  cheese  by  the  road-side,  and  were  much  stared  at  by 
some  evident  Englishmen  riding  out  of  Malaga.  The  hedge- 
rows hereabouts  are  peculiarly  luxuriant  ;  great  aloe-spikes, 
like  elephant's  tusks,  ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  waving  bul- 
rushes bigger  than  pike-rods,  and  prickly  pears,  like  gro- 
tesque aerial  battles  of  huge  green-winged  toads,  the  great 
flat  cactus-leaves  growing  out  of  one  another  in  the  most 
fantastic  combinations.  We  overtook  a  man  travelling  with 
a  heavy-panniered  ass,  who,  to  help  himself  along  in  the 
noonday  heat,  was  holding  on  to  the  tail,  and  I  drew  him  in 
my  pocket-book  as  a  sample  of  Andalusian  industry. 

Malaga  is  an  uninteresting  town,  famous  for  its  wine 
(which  is  to  my  taste  sweet  and  nauseous),  and  for  its 
climate,  to  which  invalids  come  in  numbers,  though  they  all 
say  the  place  bores  them  to  death.  The  harbour  is  full  of 
wrecks,  half  sunk,  and  full  of  water  ;  some  of  them  with 
their  decks  torn  off  and  floating  loose.  We  climbed  to  the 
castle,  very  steep,  and  with  a  good  view  of  the  town  and 
harbour. 

In  a  courtyard,  at  the  top,  some  soldiers  were  pitching  a 
32-pound  shot  from  a  scratch  on  the  ground,  and  could  throw 
it  about  eight  or  nine  yards.  They  did  it  something  in  the 
manner  of  roundhand  bowling,  and  we  were  rash  enough  to 
try,  but  failed  signally.  I  was  very  hot,  and  as  I  have  had  a 
Niagara  of  sneezes  since  my  damp  ride  on  the  beach  yester- 
day, I  thought  it  a  good  opportunity  to  rush  down  violently 
into  a  cold  bath,  which  Harry  said  would  probably  kill  me 
on  the  spot.  Natheless,  being  an  hydropathist  in  some 
degree,  I  persevered,  and   my  cold  has  stopped  at  once. 

As  I  was  coming  to  the  hotel  I  saw  some  silver  buttons 
(Cordovese  filigree),  which  I  had  seen  and  wished  for  in  the 
same  shop,  as   I   passed    through   Malaga  coming    out    to 

208 


Affectionate   Reception 

Seville,  of  a  sort  I  have  never  seen  elsewhere  ;  so  I  bought 
them  to  adorn  my  waistcoat.  Then  losing  my  way  I  came 
to  a  fruit-market,  where  eating  a  very  large  orange,  I  was 
saluted  by  some  boy,  whom  I  shortly  recognised  to  be  the 
servant  of  a  Frenchman  we  met  at  Olvera.  I  don't  know  if 
I  told  you  about  him,  or  that  we  had  made  acquaintance 
with  his  wife  at  the  Christobal  Posada,  in  Ronda. 

She  lived  in  the  room  opposite,  and  fell  heir  to  the 
remains  of  our  tough  mutton,  when  we  went  away.  How- 
ever, the  boy  would  have  me  come  with  him  to  pay  a  visit 
to  his  master.  The  Frenchman  received  me  in  a  large  bare 
room  of  an  out-of-the-way  but  vast  old  posada^  with  much 
cordiality.  He  said  his  wife  had  told  him  she  met  us  at  the 
Christobal.  He  sent  for  her,  and  when  she  came  she  fairly 
rushed  into  my  arms. 

I  was  a  little  embarrassed  by  so  affectionate  a  reception, 
for  I  thought  her  husband  might  be  jealous.  However,  he 
took  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  they  fell  to  questioning 
me,  with  much  interest  in  my  prosperity,  as  to  how  I  was 
getting  on  in  my  profession. 

I  opened  my  eyes,  forgetting  at  the  moment  what  my 
profession  precisely  was,  but  he  proceeded  to  ask  if  we  had 
done  any  portraits.  I  said,  we  were  only  arrived  to-day, 
and  told  him  the  name  of  our  posada^  and  we  should  be  most 
thankful  if  he  could  recommend  us  to  any  customers. 
"  Mafoi"  said  he,  '■^je  feral  mon  possible  !  "  so  I  went  home  to 
dinner. 

After  dinner  we  wandered  about  the  town,  and  came  to  a 
motley  and  gilt  obelisk,  set  up,  I  believe,  to  Espartero's 
friends  who  were  shot.  Here  we  sat  together  on  a  stone 
bench  in  the  p/aza^  where  I  had  sat  alone  as  I  loitered  about 
Malaga,  a  forlorn  and  solitary  wanderer,  on  my  way  out. 
This  is  the  first  place  in  which  our  present  journey  has 

209 


A  Pleasant  Contrast 

crossed  my  former  one,  and  I  could  not  help  being  struck 
by  the  pleasant  contrast.  It  certainly  was  rather  desolate 
work  then,  and  I  felt  a  fresh  gratitude  to  Harry,  which  I 
fear,  as  is  usual  with  stoical  young  men,  I  did  not  sufficiently 
express. 

To-day,  being  Sunday,  we  remain  here  ;  to-morrow  we  go 
on  to  Granada  by  Velez  and  Alhama. 


210 


CHAPTER   XIX 

Granada,  March  25. 
We  only  stayed  two  nights  in  Malaga,  for  we  were  anxious 
to  see  Granada. 

Velez  is  the  first  stage,  and  as  it  is  a  short  one,  we  did  not 
start  early,  intending  to  sleep  there.  The  road  for  a  league 
or  so  out  of  Malaga,  I  suppose  out  of  compliment  to  the 
numerous  English  invalids,  was  more  alive  with  beggars  than 
any  part  of  Spain  we  have  seen  before.  They  were  also  more 
elaborately  squalid,  in  the  extreme  picturesque  of  misery. 
This  showing  a  design  upon  the  sympathies  of  our  country- 
men, the  British  spirit  rebelled  against  the  idea  of  being 
taken  in,  and  we  passed  great  numbers  crawling  like  aged 
broken-down  vermin,  out  of  caves  and  crannies  in  the  road- 
side. But  then,  reflecting  that  we  had  lately  given  very  little 
by  way  of  alms,  I  said  to  Harry,  "  I  don't  see  why  we 
shouldn't  give  these  wretches  something  !  After  all,  the 
determined  congregation  of  beggars  to  a  place  where  English 
people  are  plentiful  h  a  compliment  to  our  national  bene- 
volence. These  beggars  are  very  old  and  wretched,  and  they 
only  cultivate  their  misery  and  dirt  like  any  other  estate, 
and  bring  it  to  the  best  market." 

Hereupon  Harry,  who  happened  to  have  a  good  deal  of 
copper  money,  began  to  disburse  liberally — so  much  so,  that 
an  old  man  riding  behind  us  on  an  ass  with  empty  panniers, 
seeing  him  throw  the  immense  sum  of  a  couple  of  tvfo-cuorto 

211  o 


A  Mounted  Mendicant 

pieces  to  an  old  hag  with  one  eye  and  a  grizzly  beard, 
thought  it  a  pity  to  lose  the  opportunity  of  getting  some- 
thing himself,  since  little  fortunes  were  in  process  of  being 
scattered  about  the  road  with  such  reckless  and  unbounded 
profusion.  He  came  up  alongside,  and  entered  into  a 
piteous  detail  of  his  immediate  losses  and  general  poverty. 

At  first  we  did  not  make  out  exactly  what  he  would  be 
at,  and  listened  to  his  grievances  civilly  ;  but  when  he 
wound  up  with  plain  begging,  the  originality  and  boldness 
of  the  idea  of  a  mounted  beggar  struck  us  in  so  humorous 
a  light  that  we  could  not  help  laughing  in  his  face.  His 
story  was,  that  he  had  come  into  Malaga  that  morning  from 
a  distance,  and  had  sold  some  garden-stuff  for  two  dollars, 
of  which  he  had  been  in  some  way  robbed  or  cheated,  and 
now  he  had  not  an  ochavo  in  the  world.  We  rode  along 
before  him  talking  about  his  case,  when,  as  the  road  had 
turned  in  from  the  coast  and  become  lonely,  an  idea  struck 
me  of  a  sudden. 

"  Suppose  we  rob  him,"  I  said  to  Harry  ;  "  I'll  be  bound 
he  has  the  money  for  his  cabbages  safe  in  his  pocket ;  at 
any  rate  we  will  see."  He  protested  that  it  was  emi- 
nently absurd,  and  that  we  might  get  into  a  tremendous 
scrape — but  I  would  not  listen  to  reason.  I  foresaw  it 
would  be  an  original  adventure.  So  I  turned  my  pony's 
head  and  waited  for  him  to  come  up.  He  quickened  his 
pace  and  overtook  us  again,  making  a  still  more  piteous 
face  than  before,  in  the  evident  impression  that  we  had 
taken  his  misfortunes  into  consideration,  and  were  about  to 
do  something  handsome  for  him.  What,  therefore,  must 
his  surprise  and  horror  have  been,  when,  as  he  got  fairly 
between  us,  I  drew  my  six-barrelled  revolver,  and  thus 
addressed  him. 

*'  Impudent   old   scoundrel,  stand   still — if  thou  stirr'st 

212 


San  Robino  Hoodo 

hand  or  foot,  or  openest  thy  mouth,  I  will  slay  thee  like  a 
dog !  Thou,  greedy  miscreant,  who  art  evidently  a  man  of 
property  and  hast  an  ass  to  ride  upon,  art  not  satisfied 
without  trying  to  rob  the  truly  poor  of  the  alms  we  give 
them.  Now,  it  is  the  religion  of  the  Ingleses^  founded  on  the 
precept  and  practice  of  the  celebrated  Saint  Robino  Hoodo, 
to  levy  funds  from  stingy  old  curmudgeons  like  thyself  and 
distribute  to  the  poor.     Therefore  at  once  hand  over  the 

two  dollars  of  which  thou  spakest,  otherwise "     Here  I 

clicked  the  cock  of  the  pistol. 

During  this  harangue,  which  was  delivered  gravely 
(though  Harry  was  obliged  to  turn  away  his  face  at  the 
mention  of  Robin  Hood  as  a  '-'■  santo  muy  famoso^^),  the  old 
culprit  had  gone  down  on  his  knees,  and  was  trembling 
violently,  and  muttering  deprecations,  for  the  love  of  the 
Virgin.  But  as  I  did  not  relax  the  stern  expression  of  mv 
countenance,  he  said  in  a  shaky  voice — 

"  One  moment,  caballeros,  and  I  will  give  you  all  I 
possess.  But  I  am  poor,  very  poor,  and  I  have  a  sick  wife 
at  the  disposition  of  your  worships " 

"  Wherefore  art  thou  fumbling  at  thy  foot  ?  Thou  carriest 
not  thy  sick  wife  in  thy  shoe  ?  " 

"I  can't  untie  the  string,  my  hand  trembles  so;  will 
your  worship  permit  me  to  take  out  my  knife  ?  " 

I  nodded,  seeing  he  was  really  frightened,  and  not  at  all 
likely  to  do  any  mischief  with  it.  He  cut  the  thong,  which 
had  been  knotted  over  and  over  again,  and  taking  the  shoe 
off  his  stockingless  and  filthy  foot,  turned  out  a  handful  of 
small  silver,  chiefly  two-real  pieces,  into  my  hand.  He 
then  groped  in  his  breeches'  pocket,  and  brought  out  a 
good  deal  of  copper,  which  he  also  gave  up  with  a  very  sub- 
missive air.  I  replaced  my  pistol  in  my  faja,  and  made  as 
if  I  would   ride   on.     As  soon  as  he  saw  his  life  was  no 

213 


Velez  Malaga 


longer  in  danger,  his  pecuniary  loss  began  to  work  on  his 
constitution,  and  he  burst  into  tears. 

"Come,  now!  Make  an  end — or  we  shall  feel  it  our  duty 
to  shoot  thy  donkey,  that  thou  may'st  have  something  to 
whimper  y^r." 

It  was  a  piteous  sight  to  see  the  grey-haired  old  impostor 
crying  like  a  child,  and  I  thought  we  had  punished  him 
enough  ;  so  I  said — 

"  Now  we  know  thou  ar/  poor,  since  we  have  taken  thy 
money  ;  we  will  give  thee  a  trifle.  There"  (dropping  his 
money  into  his  hat,  which  he  held  out  timidly)  "is  some- 
thing by  way  of  charity  ;  and  take  heed  that  thou  begg'st 
not  again  when  thou  hast  money  in  thy  pocket,  and  so 
remain  with  God,  my  friend." 

With  this  we  rode  on,  and  were  in  some  slight  fear  for 
the  rest  of  the  day,  that  he  might  find  some  of  the  Guardia 
Civil,  and  send  them  after  us  to  take  us  up.  But  I  dare 
say  it  never  occurred  to  him,  as  we  left  him  no  poorer,  that 
our  offence  was  actionable. 

Velez  Malaga  is  not  a  very  interesting  place.  I  know 
nothing  remarkable  about  it,  except  that  the  Cautivo  in 
Don  Quixote  landed  here  with  his  fair  Morisca,  on  his 
escape  from  Algiers.  I  trudged  to  the  market-place  and 
bought  a  pound  of  sardines  for  dinner,  and  afterwards 
helped  to  cook  them.  The  landlady  and  her  pretty  sister 
came  up  after  dinner,  and  told  us  that  there  was  a  company 
of  players  about  to  perform,  so  we  went.  It  was  a  shabby 
little  theatre,  with  bad  actors,  the  prompter  being  the  most 
audible  of  the  company  ;  so  we  left  the  second  act,  and 
came  home  to  bed. 

Next  morning,  in  saddling,  I  discovered  a  great  misfor- 
tune which  has  fallen  upon  me.  A  small  running  sore  has 
come  on  the  shoulder  of  the  Moor.     Harry  says  it  is  only 

214 


Puerto  del  Comar 

to  be  expected  with  such  clumsy,  straw-stufFed  saddles  ; 
especially  as  I  have  ridden  all  the  way,  since  our  first  disaster 
close  to  Seville,  without  stirrups,  which  of  course  works  the 
saddle  more  about  on  his  back  than  if  there  were  a  support 
to  balance  one's  self  by.  I  cut  the  pad  open,  and  pulled  a 
good  deal  of  the  stuffing  out  in  the  obnoxious  place  ;  and 
led  him,  determining  to  walk  as  much  as  I  could,  till  we 
got  to  Granada. 

Acting  on  this  intention  with  vigour,  I  walked  the 
first  two  leagues,  Harry  entertaining  me  on  the  way 
with  a  treatise  on  sore  backs,  of  which  so  many  of  his 
party's  horses  died  in  the  desert.  He  says,  if  we  were 
obliged  to  press  on  without  stopping,  as  they  had  to  do,  the 
Moor's  term  of  life  would  be  about  a  month  ;  and  then, 
after  passing  through  a  state  when  at  every  staggering 
step  the  spurs  forced  a  groan  out  of  his  wasted  body,  he 
would  drop  at  last,  and  be  eaten  by  wolves  and  vultures. 
But  we  should  have  a  chance  of  curing  him  at  Granada, 
staying  there  ten  days  or  so. 

We  discussed  many  of  the  sovereignest  things  for  a  sore 
back,  but  I  have  declared  myself  for  treating  the  Moor  like 
a  Christian,  that  is,  at  least,  as  I  should  treat  myself.  I 
shall  poultice  at  first  to  get  out  the  inflammation,  and  then 
wash  the  place  with  a  solution  of  lunar  caustic.  At  Viiiuela, 
where  we  breakfasted,  I  washed  his  back  with  hot  water, 
and  left  a  wet  rag  on  to  cool  the  place.  Soon  after  Viiiuela 
the  road  begins  to  steepen. 

At  Velez  we  had  turned  inland  to  go  up  over  the  moun- 
tain-ridge which  runs  paralled  with  the  coast.  High  above 
us  appeared  a  deep  round-bottomed  nick  between  two  flat- 
topped  mountains,  across  which  gap  lay  a  great  white 
bolster  of  cloud.  I  am  aware  it  would  be  more  in  the 
acknowledged  style  of  descriptive  scenery  to  call  it  a  "giant 

215 


A  Moorish  Chronicle 

portal  of  the  mountain  fastnesses,  curtained,  &c.,"  but  that 
would  not  give  you  so  true  an  idea. 

To  this  pass  we  rose  by  weary  zig-zags.  The  rock-walls 
at  its  entrance  are  precipitous  and  full  of  fissures  and  caves, 
especially  on  the  left.  One  of  these,  "El  nido  del  Moro  " 
(the  Moor's  nest),  high  up  in  the  almost  perpendicular  face 
of  the  rock,  is  said  to  have  been  the  lair  of  that  celebrated 
marauder,  Sahib-el-Comr,  or  rather  his  principal  entrance, 
for  the  whole  mountain  was  supposed  to  be  perforated 
with  a  labyrinth  of  winding  passages  leading  to  and  from 
innumerable  vaulted  halls. 


STORY   OF   SAHIB-EL-COMR  AND   THE 
QUEEN   AELFA.i 

In  these  caves  Sahib  and  his  band  dwelt  at  ease, 
nourishing  their  hearts  in  luxury,  and  served  by  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  Eblis.  The  road  from  Granada  to  the 
sea  passed  immediately  below  the  nest  of  this  vulture,  who, 
with  the  claw  of  rapine,  appropriated  many  of  King 
Ibnulahmar's  choicest  importations,  wherefore  that  poten- 
tate sundry  times  had  sharpened  for  his  neck  the  sword  of 
retribution. 

But  the  search  proved  fruitless,  and  manifold  expe- 
ditions returned,  reporting  that  the  Jinns  had  closed  up 
the  old  passages  against  them,  and  opened  others  for  the 
depredator's  escape.  At  length,  a  favourite  of  the  harem, 
having  been  dispossessed  of  several  bales  of  embroidery 
from  Fez,  she,  being  a  lady  of  great  spirit,  declared  that  she 
herself  would  find  a  way  to  chastise  the  marauder.  She 
first  persuaded  the  old  king  to  close  the   eyes  of  circum- 

'  Abou  Kizeb. — Cronica  de  los  Sultanes  de  Granada,  traducida 
per  Gazmono  de  Mentiras. 

2l6 


Queen  Aelfa's  Scheme 

spection  with  the  seal  of  confidence,  and  he  swore  before- 
hand to  abide  by  the  plan  which  she  thus  disclosed  : — 

"It  is  well  known,  O  king,  that  force  will  not  overcome 
this  traitor,  who  is  assisted  by  the  powers  of  the  air  ;  but 
though  man  can  do  nothing  in  such  a  case,  it  does  not 
follow  that  a  woman  might  not.  Send  me,  therefore,  with 
a  dozen  of  the  most  worthless  of  thy  guard,  as  if  I  were 
going  down  to  the  sea." 

^^  Wallah  aalyek'iV  cried  the  old  king;  "and  if  thou  hadst 
fifty  of  my  best  men,  what  are  they  to  this  hornets'  nest, 
which  exceedeth  an  hundred,  beside  the  Jinns  of  the  moun- 
tain ?  This  dog  would  certainly  slay  thy  escort,  and  take 
possession  of  thyself." 

"That  is  what  I  anticipate.  He  will  take  me  to  his 
bosom,  and  when  I  have  obtained  his  confidence,  I  will 
betray  him  into  thy  hand." 

"But  in  the  meantime,  and  perchance  for  ever,  I  lose 
thee,  O  daughter  of  my  soul.  Cannot  some  of  thy  women 
do  this  in  thy  place  ?  " 

"  It  was  said  by  the  sage,  Wisaakir,  that  there  is  no 
great  gain  without  some  little  loss  ;  as  to  sending  one  of 
my  women,  which  of  them  can  I  trust  ?  How  can  I  tell 
that  she  might  not  prefer  the  robber's  cave  to  Alhambra's 
gilded  prison,  and  never  attempt  to  return  ?  " 

"  Thou  sayest  well.  Nay,"  added  the  old  king,  thought- 
fully stroking  his  beard,  "how  am  I  sure  even  of  thee  ? 
As  the  singer  hath  said, 

'  Deem  not  that  any  oath  can  bind 
The  fickle  troth  of  womankind  ! 
They  change  their  minds  and  break  their  oaths, 
As  they  break  bread  and  change  their  clothes. 
Their  love  and  hate  in  treaclierous  trim 

Are  poised  upon  a  captious  whim '" 

217 


A  Lovers'  Quarrel 

None  but  a  prophet  can  affirm  with  certainty  how  far  the 
king  might  have  extended  this  derogatory  quotation.  But 
at  the  sixth  line  Queen  Aelfa  arose  in  silence,  and  as  a 
flask  of  vinegar  might  be  corked  with  a  rose-bud,  she 
stopped  his  ungracious  rhymes  with  her  lips.  For,  as  the 
singer  saith  again, 

"  The  silent  touch  of  woman's  lips, 
To  warp  man's  will  to  hers, 
All  sweetest  eloquence  outstrips 
Of  wisest  counsellors." 

The  conference  closed,  and  the  queen  did  as  she  would. 

Now,  of  the  chroniclers  of  the  reign  of  Ibnulahmar 
(peace  be  upon  him),  some  affirm  that  there  had  been  a 
previous  acquaintance  between  Queen  Aelfa  (who  was  the 
daughter  of  a  worker  in  the  precious  metals  dwelling  in  the 
Zacatin)  and  this  noted  robber.  One  relates  that,  when 
Sahib  once  had  entered  Granada,  in  the  disguise  or  a  fakir^ 
to  sell  some  rich  spoil,  they  had  met  clandestinely,  and 
became  enamoured  mutually. 

It  is  certain,  however,  that  when  the  queen  was  captured 
according  to  her  preconcerted  scheme,  she  dwelt  in  the 
caves  happy  and  contented,  without  retrospection  or  regret. 
In  the  third  year  occurred  a  quarrel  between  the  lovers, 
and  the  fountain  of  their  affections  became,  as  it  were,  ink 
and  vinegar.  The  cause  is  not  ascertained,  but  it  is  said  to 
have  occurred  shortly  after  a  large  capture  of  damsels  at  a 
village  wedding  in  the  vicinity.  The  virtuous  and  constant 
Aelfa  casually  happened  at  this  conjuncture  to  remember 
the  promise  she  had  made  to  the  old  king,  and  resolved  to 
betray  the  robber. 

Treachery  never  lacks  an  instrument.  There  was  a  black 
humpbacked  rogue  of  great  bodily  strength,  though  of  but 

2l8 


Caleb-esh-Sheytan 


little  intelligence,  by  name  Caleb-esh-Sheytan,  which,  being 
interpreted,  signifies  the  Hound  of  Satan.  He  had  long 
arms  and  legs,  a  very  broad  back,  all  doubled  up  into  an 
expanse  of  shoulders  on  which  you  might  have  set  a  pack- 
saddle.  He  was  used  as  a  beast  of  burden  to  carry  off 
plunder,  being  very  swift  and  sure-footed  on  the  mountains. 
He  was  also  of  use  in  countenancing  an  idea  that  the 
robber  was  assisted  by  Eblis,  from  his  plausibly  fiendish 
appearance. 

This  man,  having  been  much  beaten  for  attempts  to  pilfer 
portions  of  the  booty  committed  to  his  back  (for,  in  that  he 
was  so  stupid,  his  defalcations  were  usually  discovered),  a 
continual  course  of  castigation  had  soured  his  temper,  so 
that  the  fuel  of  vengeance  ready  piled  in  the  bedarkened 
chamber  of  his  heart,  awaited  only  a  spark  from  the  forge 
of  suggestive  invention  to  be  kindled  to  a  conflagration. 

What  he  wanted  in  ingenuity  Aelfa  supplied  ;  and  she 
despatched  him  with  a  letter  to  the  king,  further  command- 
ing Caleb  to  conduct  the  troops  which  would  be  intrusted 
to  his  guidance  by  an  unfrequented  approach  down  a  long 
sloping  corridor,  whose  mouth  opened  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  He  had  not  been  gone  many  hours,  when  she, 
with  that  rapid  decision  of  purpose  which  characterises 
the  female  sex,  changed  her  mind  ;  therefore,  with  tears 
and  contrition,  she  confessed  her  guilt,  and  disclosed  the 
plot. 

Having  reproached  her  with  the  bitterest  of  reproaches, 
and  poured  forth  upon  her  head  the  uttermost  revilings  of 
scorn,  till  the  colour  of  her  countenance  was  changed  by 
the  blankness  of  her  confusion  and  her  shame.  Sahib  finally 
forgave  her,  and  they  addressed  themselves  to  prepare 
against  the  enemy.  He  blocked  up  the  passage  with  great 
masses  of  rock,   leaving  a  huge   heap  of  subtile   explosive 

219 


The   Catastrophe 


powder,  of  which  he  knew  the  secret,  and  which  in  these 
days  it  is  thought  may  be  applied  to  projectile  purposes. 
Aelfa  and  Sahib  waited  behind  the  obstruction  at  the 
appointed  hour  of  the  night.  They  heard  the  stealthy 
approach  of  feet,  and  then  the  thick  voice  of  the  negro 
saying,  "  Here  is  a  great  heap  of  sand  !  "  for  his  feet  were 
in  the  powder.  "  The  queen  has  doubtless  strewn  it  along 
the  way  that  our  steps  make  not  a  noise  on  the  rocks," 
replied  the  captain  of  the  troop. 

"  We  are  betrayed,"  cried  the  negro,  as  his  hands  came 
against  the  great  stones  which  blocked  up  the  way.  "  If 
we  are  betrayed,  thou  shalt  not  escape,"  said  the  soldier, 
as  it  would  seem,  despatching  Caleb,  who  shrieked,  and  was 
afterwards  silent  ;  whereupon  Sahib  dropped  his  touchwood 
into  the  train,  and  retreated  with  the  feet  of  celerity. 
After  a  little,  the  powder  exploded,  and  the  whole  expedi- 
tion were  killed  except  one  man,  who  had  hung  back  in  the 
dark,  and  stood  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  irresolute  what 
to  do. 

The  fire-blast  knocked  him  down,  and  burnt  off  the 
greater  part  of  his  beard.  He  recovered,  and  in  due  time 
repaired  to  Granada,  where  he  reported  "  that  he  had  been 
the  first  man  to  follow  the  black  demon  down  a  bottomless 
pit,  to  which  Gehennah  was  as  a  rat-hole  ;  that  when  they 
had  gone  several  furlongs  into  the  heart  of  the  mountain, 
Eblis  had  appeared  in  their  way  in  the  form  of  a  fiery 
dragon,  into  whose  mouth  Caleb  had  walked,  as  if  it  had 
been  his  own  house,  and  sat  down  among  the  dreadful  teeth, 
as  if  they  had  been  palm-trees  in  his  own  courtyard.  Here- 
upon the  dragon  snorted  fire  and  brimstone  for  the  space  of 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  the  negro  imp  grinning  with  satisfac- 
tion in  the  midst  of  it  all  the  while,  and  clapping  his  long 
black   bony   hands.      All  the   men   were    soon   burnt    and 

220 


Royal  Consolation 


smothered,  as  he  himself  should  have  been,  if  he  had  not 
(knowing  the  sort  of  work  he  was  going  to  undertake)  used 
the  precaution  to  extract  the  whole  chapter  of  Alkafireen 
out  of  the  Koran  (which  his  wife  sewed,  leaf  by  leaf,  all 
under  his  dress),  and  to  carry  the  soorat  el  fatihat  el  k'ltab  i 
in  his  hand,  which  he  had  set  over  his  eyes  and  nose  and 
mouth  ;  but  it  was  unluckily  not  large  enough  to  cover  his 
beard. 

The  king,  being  very  much  disheartened  with  the  failure 
of  his  expedition,  and  Aelfa's  treachery,  saw  no  better  way 
to  soothe  his  despondency  than  by  cutting  ofF  the  singed 
head  of  the  narrator  ;  which  was  accordingly  done. 


After  passing  the  great  gap  in  the  mountain-barrier,  the 
road,  without  descending,  crossed  a  flat  green  plain,  or  vega^ 
very  fertile,  and  in  which,  if  you  had  been  dropped  there, 
you  would  never  have  guessed  you  were  three  or  four  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Around,  still  high 
above  us,  stood  the  snow-capped  hills,  with  great  white 
clouds  leaning  upon  them.  As  we  rode  along,  the  wind 
rose,  and  the  clouds  descended  upon  us.  We  had  now 
passed  the  flat  land,  and  were  winding  among  the  turns  of 
low  hills  over  which  swept  the  galloping  vapours.  Every 
now  and  then  we  could  see  the  distant  peaks  of  snow 
through  a  momentary  rent  in  this  rushing  mist,  and  fitful 
gleams  of  sunshine  would  light  up  specious  semblances  of 
embattled  towns  among  the  nearer  outlines  of  the  rocky 
hills,  and  then  roll  the  landscape  up  again  in  a  moist 
blanket,  through  which  it  was  impossible  to  see  more  than 
twenty  yards  ahead  of  us. 

I  was  very  tired,  and,  impatient  with  the  long-delayed 
hope  of  getting  to  our    day's    work's    end,  ejaculated    the 

'  The  opening  prayer  of  the  Koran. 
221 


Alhama 

appropriate  "  Ay  de  mi,  Alhama  "  with  much  fervour  many 
times.  The  few  peasants  we  met  on  the  way  seemed  in 
league  with  one  another  to  put  us  out  of  heart  ;  for 
the  nearer  we  approached,  the  further  they  represented 
Alhama  to  be.  At  last,  at  the  top  of  a  hill,  when  we 
had  almost  given  up  Alhama,  as  a  Mrs.  Harris  Gamped 
up  by  Lord  Byron  and  Mr.  Ford,  the  mist  suddenly 
blew  away,  and  a  little  greystone,  rock-girt  nest  of  a  town, 
very  different  from  what  we  had  expected,  appeared  in  the 
hollow  beneath.  The  main  street,  down  which  we  scrambled, 
is  a  steep  slope  of  solid  rock,  across  which  grooves  are  cut 
to  give  some  little  foothold.  The  Casa  de  los  CaballeroSy 
recommended  by  the  guide-book,  seemed  an  unpromising 
place,  and  we  had  to  put  our  ponies  in  a  sort  of  coal-hole. 
I  was  dreadfully  tired  and  hungry,  which  resulted  in  a  cer- 
tain impatience  of  temper  against  which  my  philosophy  is 
not  proof  under  such  trials.  There  was  no  mozo  de  la  cuadra 
to  get  a  place  made  for  our  ponies  among  the  fuel  in  the 
coal-hole,  except  an  imbecile  grandfather  of  the  establish- 
ment, a  very  helpless  and  garrulous  old  man,  who  could  not 
even  get  us  any  barley. 

The  woman  of  the  house,  too,  was  stupidly  inquisitive 
about  the  hot  water  which  I  had  asked  for  to  wash  the 
Moor's  sore  shoulder  ;  and  I  showered  the  effect  of  my 
irascible  exhaustion  upon  both  their  heads  in  such  a  volley 
of  arr'iero  language,  that  Harry  was  obliged  to  remind  me 
of  my  official  capacity  as  the  mild  and  persuasive  spokesman 
of  the  party.  So  the  huespeda^  by  degrees,  heated  some 
water  in  the  frying-pan,  and  the  old  man  gabbled,  and 
fussed,  and  pottered  about  till  the  ponies  were  finally  provided 
for.  I  washed  the  Moor's  shoulder,  and  found  it  had  not 
got  so  much  worse  as  I  expected.  The  landlady  made  us  an 
excellent  supper  of  watQr-souchety  fried  anchovies,  and  salad. 

222 


Calculation  of  Mileage 

The  old  grandfather  sat  in  the  blazing  chimney-corner, 
playing  with  his  grandchild,  a  stout  little  boy  about  five 
years  old,  of  whom  he  was  very  proud.  In  intellect  they 
were  about  on  a  level  ;  but  the  little  boy,  in  the  vivacious 
wilfulness  of  his  youth,  had  entirely  the  upper  hand  of  the 
pottering  old  patriarch,  who  seemed  quite  happy  and  uncon- 
scious of  the  infant  tyranny  under  which  he  laboured. 

The  ride  from  Alhama  to  Granada  is  grand  and  dreary. 
Barren  undulating  table-land,  without  a  tree  to  break  the 
sky-line  of  rugged  mountain  summits  all  around.  The  day 
was  dark  and  windless,  and  the  vapours,  which  had  been 
scouring  about  overnight,  lay  in  great,  soft,  lazy  pillows  and 
feather-beds  among  the  snowy  jags. 

We  overtook  a  crippled  soldier  with  his  crutches,  charged 
on  an  ass,  whose  master  encouraged  him  to  keep  up  his 
pace  with  many  thwacks  from  behind.  The  soldier  was  in 
great  spirits,  returning  to  his  native  Granada  after  an 
absence  of  a  dozen  years,  singing  and  loquacious,  and  quite 
confident  that  his  native  air  would  soon  set  him  on  his  legs 
again.  He  had  been  broken  down  by  some  artillery  acci- 
dent at  Tarifa.  It  appeared  he  paid  a  real  a  league  for 
being  carried  on  the  donkey — about  2^d.  We  began  to 
compare  our  own  expenses,  and  cast  up  our  account  to 
form  an  average  of  our  expense  per  mile.  It  cost  us  about 
three  shillings  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings  each  day  for 
ourselves  and  our  beasts.  This,  divided  by  twenty,  the 
number  of  miles  we  generally  go  in  a  day,  makes  an  average 
of  a  little  over  2d.  a  mile,  which  is  not  ruinous.  Of  course 
in  the  large  towns  it  is  more,  this  being  calculated  for  the 
scale  of  costs  on  the  road. 

We  had  been  descending  gradually  towards  an  isolated 
mound,  which  stood  at  the  bottom  of  a  long  slope,  and  had 
been  in  sight  many  miles  ;  in  fact,  ever  since  turning  the 

223 


The  Vega 

steep  brow  out  of  the  valley  of  Cacin.  As  we  approached 
this  mound  in  the  bottom  of  a  broad  space  among  the 
mountains,  it  grew  larger  and  larger  ;  and  when  we  had 
baited  at  La  Mala^  and  came  to  ascend  it,  it  turned  out 
quite  a  mountain  in  itself.  We  were  in  a  high  state  of 
anxiety  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  Granada,  and  busy 
building  all  sorts  of  impossible  Alhambras  in  the  air. 
Ronda,  we  recollected,  had  belied  our  fond  anticipations, 
but  Granada  was  an  acknowledged  wonder  of  the  world, 
and  must  at  any  rate  be  very  striking. 

Meanwhile  the  edge  of  the  hill  was  turned,  and  Granada 
lay  before  us,  about  four  miles  off.  Do  you  expect  a  burst 
of  enthusiasm  ?  Alas  !  I  fear  there  is  nothing  earthly  can 
bear  the  fatal  ordeal  of  a  previous  reputation — not  even  the 
great  Niagara,  which  a  disappointed  American  once  said 
was  a  "  perfect  failure."  Granada  from  our  first  view  was 
a  plain-looking  largish  town,  on  a  slight  slope  at  the  foot  of 
an  ordinary  mountain.  We  could  hardly  make  out  the 
Alhambra  from  the  hill-side.  The  famous  Vega,  over  a 
corner  of  which  we  were  looking,  was  of  a  dingy  green. 
The  day  was  cloudy,  and  the  fine  amphitheatre  of  moun- 
tains looked  cold  and  dreary  ;  besides,  we  were  used  to 
mountains.  However,  as  we  rode  along,  some  glimpses  of 
sunshine  kindled  purple  gleams  among  the  distant  peaks, 
and  sprinkled  emerald  lights  about  the  Vega,  and  here  and 
there  brought  out  bright  towers  and  spires,  marking  the 
scattered  hamlets  of  the  plain. 

Our  arrival  took  place  about  the  hour  of  sunset,  when 
the  good  people  of  Granada,  as  well  as  the  bad  and  indif- 
ferent I  suppose,  were  sauntering  about  the  paseo  in  a 
body.  We  were  very  considerably  stared  at,  being,  I  should 
think,  about  as  remarkable  objects  as  Buckstone  and  Wright 
got  up  as  elaborate  Adelphi  countrymen  might  be,  riding 

224 


Guides 

into  London  by  Rotten-row  on  cart  hobby-horses.  We  had 
forgotten  the  name  of  our  hotel  too,  and  had  to  go  about 
making  inquiries  among  the  staring  crowd.  The  people 
were  all  dressed  in  the  pink  of  Parisian  fashion,  and  no 
doubt  looked  upon  us  as  a  pair  of  exceedingly  quaint  bar- 
barians from  some  rustic  village  of  the  Sierras.  At  last  we 
found  some  one  who  knew  the  name  of  our  landlord,  which 
was  all  we  recollected,  and  directed  us  to  the  Fonda  de  la 
Amistad. 

To  our  great  delight  the  portmantos  had  arrived  from 
Seville,  and  we  should  be  able  to  dress  ourselves  like 
Christians  once  again.  They  had  come  some  days  before, 
and  had  been  got  through  the  Custom-house  (locked  and 
sealed  up)  by  the  persuasion  of  the  fair  Seiiora  Vasquez, 
whose  I'lndos  ojos  [beaux  yeux)  had  smiled  away  the  official 
punctilios  of  the  doganero.  We  rushed  into  the  luxuries  of 
soap  and  water  and  clean  linen. 

While  we  were  dressing,  our  door  was  beaten  by  not  less 
than  a  dozen  applicants,  who  expressed,  through  the  key- 
hole, in  various  degrees  of  approximation  to  French  and 
English,  a  desire  to  guide  us  about  Granada.  Everybody 
here  is  a  guide,  from  the  ostler  in  the  stables — who  took 
occasion,  while  I  was  washing  the  Moor's  sore  shoulder,  to 
recommend  himself — to  the  man  who  showed  us  up  to  our 
rooms,  and  mentioned  that  he  was  not  the  waiter,  but  a 
guide,  as  he  brought  the  hot  water.  This  was  a  good- 
looking  young  man,  dressed  in  the  pink  of  majo  fashion,  all 
over  silver  brooches  and  tags,  whom  we  had  taken  to  be  the 
brother  of  our  hostess.  He  proved  to  be  a  son  of  the  cele- 
brated Bensaken ;  and  while  we  were  at  dinner  he  returned 
to  the  charge,  bringing  two  volumes  of  testimonies  to  his 
father's  qualities  as  a  guide.  We  told  him  that  it  was 
against  our  principles  ever  to  be  led  about,  and  that,  in  fact, 

225 


A  Vow 

we  had  made  a  vow  to  stumble  through  Spain  without 
guidance ;  a  course  which  might  be  the  means  of  our  miss- 
ing many  remarkable  objects,  to  whose  possible  loss  we 
reconciled  ourselves,  in  consideration  of  the  pleasure  we 
took  in  going  our  own  way. 


226 


CHAPTER   XX 

Granada,  March  27. 
We  had  been  up  sketching  in  the  Torre  de  la  Vela  ;  that 
is  to  say,  the  watch-tower,  or  Tower  of  the  Candle,  for  I 
believe  vela  means  both,  acquiring  its  metaphorical  sense 
from  the  vigilous  uses  of  a  rushlight.  From  the  Torre  de 
la  Vela,  which  stands  out  on  the  end  of  Alhambra's  hill- 
spur,  and  highest  of  Alhambra's  towers,  we  had  been 
sketching  the  broken  arches  of  Alkasabah. 

I  was  cramped  with  lying  along  a  deep  little  window- 
niche  in  the  stair,  about  as  big  as  half  a  stone  coffin,  into 
which  cool  and  shady  hole  I  had  stowed  myself  to  avoid  the 
glare  and  heat  at  the  top  of  the  tower.  Lying  on  my  left 
elbow  to  draw,  and  screwing  my  back  and  neck  to  peep  out 
of  the  aperture  of  this  limited  studio,  exhausted  my  patience 
rapidly  ;  and  I  scrambled  out  of  my  lair  backwards,  and 
went  up  to  the  top  to  see  how  Harry  was  coming  on.  He 
was  in  process  of  executing  a  very  superior  work  of  art,  but 
it  was  not  half  finished. 

Descending  by  the  Post-office  (which  is  in  the  same 
street  with  our  Fonda  de  la  Jmistady  and  in  the  direct  way 
between  it  and  the  Alhambra),  we  found  the  postmaster 
sorting  letters.  On  inquiring  with  a  palpitating  heart  if 
there  was  a  letter  for  my  name,  I  was  told  it  was  "  regular 
que  no  "  (probable  there  was  not),  but  that  the  list  would 
be  out  in  a  few  minutes.     When  that  portentous  document 

227  p 


La  Bella  Sofia 

was  wafered  up,  it  proved  a  blank  as  far  as  I  was  con- 
cerned ;  but  knowing,  that  as  many  things  in  Spain  are 
very  inefficiently  done  with  much  pomp  and  circum- 
stance, the  names  on  the  list  bear  often  but  a  very  vague 
resemblance  to  the  real  address  on  letters,  I  lingered 
pensively  studying  the  column  of  "  cartas  estranjeras"  till 
I  fixed  upon  "No.  381,  Don  Gregorio  Esqua,"  which  I 
asked  to  look  at. 

I  had  but  slight  hopes,  and  the  official  seemed  to  hesitate 
in  giving  it  me,  having  so  suddenly  changed  my  name.  But 
I  suppose  he  judged  by  my  exclamation  of  delight  on  seeing 
the  handwriting,  that  I  was  the  rightful  owner,  for  he 
allowed  me  to  purchase  it  (at  about  twice  its  weight  in 
silver)  and  carry  it  away  in  triumph.  In  transcribing  the 
address  he  had  begun  boldly  with  the  first  Christian  name 
George,  which  he  had  rendered  Gregorio — passing  over 
the  intermediate  writing  as  works  of  supererogation  he  had 
taken  the  Esquire — slightly  modified — for  the  patronymic. 
However,  I  got  my  letter. 

By  the  way,  we  have  met  here  the  loveliest  creature  we 
have  ever  seen  in  all  Spain.     We  had  a  letter  of  "  recomen- 

dacion  "  to  her  mother,  the  accomplished  Marquesa  P . 

We  had  heard  she  was  very  lovely  from  our  friends  in 
Seville  (but  have  learnt  to  mistrust  the  agreement  of 
Spanish  and  English  tastes).  Nevertheless  on  calling,  the 
day  after  our  arrival,  we  were  both  struck,  to  use  a  base  but 
forcible  metaphor,  all  of  heaps. 

She  has  a  splendid  figure,  tall  and  stately  ;  a  beautiful  fresh 
clear  complexion,  rosy  cheeks,  and  cherry  lips  (which  are 
very  rarely  combined  with  the  raven  tresses  and  flashing 
eyes — the  common,  often  the  only,  ornaments  of  her  coun- 
trywomen) ;  and  is  besides  very  clever  and  fascinating. 
We  were    both    much    struck,  I  said  ;  but  Harry,  whose 

228 


Jinnat-al-Aarif 


heart  was  "without  incumbrance,"  of  course  much  the  most 
of  the  two. 

Here  ladies  are  much  more  free  and  easy  on  a  short 
acquaintance  than  in  our  arctic  zone,  where  the  heart  takes 
a  whole  season  of  stuiFy  drawing-room  atmosphere  just  to 
begin  to  thaw  a  little.  Last  night  (which  was  only  our 
third  visit,  though  by  the  way  we  had  met  another  night  at 
the  Opera)  I  had  in  my  button-hole  a  largish  little  bunch 
of  violets,  which  had  been  given  me  by  the  woman  showing 
the  gardens  of  the  Generalife.  This  beautiful  palace,  which 
stands  a  little  higher  up  the  mountain  than  the  Alhambra, 
is  not  called  from  any  distinguished  general  having  lived 
there,  but  from  jinndt-al-aarif\  meaning,  in  Arabic,  the 
gardens  of  the  cunning  man — that  is  to  say,  the  architect, 
who,  after  building  the  Alhambra,  made  himself,  to  my 
mind,  a  much  pleasanter  dwelling-place  among  terraces  and 
hanging-gardens  on  the  brow  of  the  Sierra  del  Sol. 

These  fatal  violets  I  bore  in  my  button-hole,  and  their 
history  you  may  read  in  the  following  lines  : — 

THE   VIOLETS  AND  THE   ROSE. 

The  gardens  of  the  cunning  man  that  framed  the  fairy  halls 
Which  grim  Alhambra  hides  within   her  rough  red  sandstone 

walls  ; 
The  gardens  of  the  cunning  man,  'mid  terraces  of  flowers, 
Perched  higher  still  o'erlook  the  hill  of  battlements  and  towers  ; 
Up  there  I  got  some  violets,  that  wooed  the  mountain  breeze, 
And  wore  them  in  my  button-hole  till  we  had  had  our  teas  ! 
Then  I  put  on  my  smartest  clothes  to  pay  an  evening  visit 
At  the  Marquesa  What's-her-name's  !     Her  name's  no  matter — 

is  it? 
Now  this  Marquesa  What's-her-name  a  daughter  fair  she  had,  a 
More  lovely  creature  to  my  mind  than  any  in  Granada. 
To  her  I  gave  the  violets  ;  and,  as  you  may  suppose. 
Because  the  violets  were  sweet  she  put  them  to  her  nose  ! 

229 


The  Alhambra 

She  raised  her  hand  up  to  her  head  of  long,  black,  glossy  hair, 
And  from  its  folds  undid  the  rose  which  Andaluzas  wear  ! 
She  held  the  two  in  either  hand— she  seemed  in  doubt  to  be— 
She  kept  the  violets  herself,  and  gave  the  rose  to  me. 
I  stuck  it  in  my  button-hole,  she  twined  them  in  her  hair- 
There  was  some  room  for  sentiment,  but  I  have  none  to  spare. 
Indeed,  I  could  not  help  but  think,  upon  my  homeward  way, 
Were  she  aware  of  this  affair,  what  would  my say  ? " 


But  now  I  must  set  seriously  to  work  to  tell  you  some- 
thing about  the  Alhambra.  As  we  went  up  into  it  the  first 
time,  I  said  to  Harry  that  it  reminded  me  of  Windsor 
Castle.  He  said,  "  That  may  be  very  true,  but  it  won't  do 
to  say  in  our  book,  at  least  as  an  original  remark,  for  Ford 
has  said  the  same."  Indeed,  Ford's  description  of  the 
Alhambra,  which  I  read  for  the  first  time  after  Harry's 
remark,  is  so  perfect  that  it  leaves  little  to  be  said.  There- 
fore, if  you  want  to  know  about  the  Alhambra,  read  Ford's 
account. 

But,  as  so  minute  a  description  necessarily  travels  over  this 
massive  pile  like  a  telescopic  field  of  vision,  creeping  bit  by 
bit  along  the  surface,  I  may  as  well  give  you  a  sketch  in 
coarse  outline,  that  you  may  catch  a  rude  general  idea  more 
easily. 

The  Alhambra  stands  on  two  toes  of  the  foot  of  the  Sierra 
del  Sol.  There  is  a  long  mound  (about  300  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  town),  cut  off  from  the  mountain  by  a 
rocky  ravine,  and  towards  the  town,  forked  into  the  two  toes 
above-mentioned.  On  the  great-toe  end  stands  the  Torre 
de  la  Vela,  backed  by  all  the  principal  buildings  of  the 
Alhambra.  On  the  little-toe  end  are  the  Torres  Bermejas 
(something  like  Windsor  Castle's  crump  end),  backed  by 
straggling  battlement-towers. 

Between  these  toes  there  is  a  deep  corry,  full  of  tall,  thin- 

230 


Charles  V.,  his  Palace 

boled  trees,  which  slopes  up  to  the  level  of  the  hill,  and 
expands  into  gardens  and  gravel-walk  parades.  You  enter 
by  a  Janus-faced  gate  at  the  bottom  (it  is  of  a  tolerable 
Christian  aspect  out,  and  indifferent  Moorish  inside),  and 
you  see  some  dingy  red  towers  peeping  down  through  the 
trees  on  either  band.  There  are  three  paths,  but  you  turn 
to  the  left,  slanting  zig-zag  up  the  steep  side  of  the  corry. 
After  a  while  you  get  to  a  Moorish  archway  in  a  tall  red 
tower.  Over  the  gateway  is  the  magic  hand,  engraved  like 
an  Egyptian  hieroglyphic  in  the  stone.  You  go  up  a  shab- 
byish  passage,  open  to  the  sky,  and  come  out  in  a  large 
courtyard  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Here  you  see  before  you 
the  square  yellow  sandstone  palace,  begun  by  Charles  V. 
The  inside  is  unfinished,  and  through  one  of  its  round  win- 
dows we  saw  a  goat  skip  across  a  gap  between  two  blocks  of 
unfinished  stonework.  Behind  this  great  solecism,  and 
tacked  on  to  it  anyhow,  without  any  attempt  at  harmony,  or 
even  straightness,  are  the  remains  of  the  palace  of  the 
Moorish  kings  of  Granada,  which  I  will  not  stop  here  to 
describe.  They  run  along  the  precipice-edge  above  the 
deep  ravine,  at  whose  bottom  murmurs  the  Darro.  It  is 
only  seen  from  this  valley  that  the  Alhambra  presents  any 
remarkable  beauty  on  the  outside. 

And  here  sitting,  after  sunset,  among  the  slender  marble 
shafts  of  the  breezy  galleries,  it  is,  to  a  certain  degree,  a 
realisation  of  romance  to  watch  the  stars  glimmering  out  of 
the  darkening  sky,  and  the  lamps  from  the  blackening  town 
below,  and  to  say  to  one's  self :  "  This  is  the  Alhambra. 
This  is  the  palace  of  dreams  which  Washington  Irving  set 
up  in  our  imaginations,  sculptured  with  more  graceful 
forms,  painted  with  richer  colours,  and  enamelled  with 
brighter  azulejos  and  tarkeeshes^  than  even  the  cunning 
man  could  accomplish,  or  the  lavish  Ibnulahmar  could  pay 

231 


Washington  Irving  Elaarif 

for."  For  truly,  when  we  compare  the  reality  (by  day- 
light) with  the  description,  Washington  Irving  appears  the 
cunninger  man  of  the  two. 

But  when  the  moon  arises  above  the  pass  of  Loja,  and 
strikes  across  the  Vega,  pointing  its  towers  with  silver,  and 
dancing  on  its  streams  ;  then,  as  her  beams  creep  slowly 
from  corner  to  corner  along  Alhambra's  walls,  piercing  the 
slender-shafted  arches,  and  lighting  up  the  delicate  tracery 
of  the  interior — then,  reality,  robed  in  moonshine,  becomes 
romance  indeed — then,  the  shadowy  outlines  of  a  real 
enchanted  palace  tremble  upside  down  in  the  Berkah's 
watery  mirror  ;  and  the  very  indifferent  lions  which  stand 
(godfathers  to  their  court)  round  the  alabaster  fountain 
become  imposing  quadrupeds,  and  vindicate  their  high 
renown. 

We  had  formerly  been  disappointed  with  the  Alhambra, 
having,  with  our  usual  luck,  seen  it  first  on  the  wrong  side, 
where  it  hardly  can  be  seen  at  all.  Then  within,  though 
very  fine,  it  is  not  so  richly  decorated  as  the  Alcazar  of 
Seville,  the  site  and  extent  of  which  are,  however,  greatly 
inferior.  Altogether,  let  the  traveller  prepare  to  be  disap- 
pointed as  much  with  Granada  as  he  has  been  accustomed 
to  be  at  other  celebrated  places,  and  with  other  celebrated 
beauties  or  celebrated  men.  Where  was  there  ever  a  first 
impression  which  could  stand  against  the  fatal  reaction  of 
previous  eulogy  ? 

We  went  to  see  the  Cartuxa  Convent  this  morning,  where 
there  is  a  large  series  of  cleverish  amateur  paintings  of 
martyrdoms,  &c.,  by  one  Cotan,  an  ancient  monk  of  the 
Carthusian  order.  There  was  one  picture  of  a  saint,  sup- 
posed by  himself  and  his  pious  friends  to  have  died  in  the 
odour  of  sanctity,  who  on  arriving  in  the  other  world 
appears  to  have  been  most  unpleasantly  undeceived, 

232 


La  Cartuja 


The  picture  represents  his  coffin  being  opened  in  the  pre- 
sence of  San  Bruno  ;  and  the  supposed  saint,  with  his  hair 
on  end,  and  his  features  distorted  into  the  most  agonising 
expression,  is  explaining  to  his  former  fraternity  some  fatal 
mistake  in  their  system.  There  are  sundry  familiar  spirits 
from  limbo  attending  in  the  capacity  of  sheriffs'  officers — 
very  quaint  devils.  The  pictures  are  curious  and  spirited  : 
some  of  the  faces  very  well  painted  :  but  the  artist  evidently 
never  studied  anatomy  or  perspective,  and  his  drawing  is 
generally  out  of  proportion. 

We  have  given  up  the  idea  of  going  back  to  the  fer'ias  at 
Seville,  and  the  Holy  Week.  We  should  lose  a  long  while 
going  back  ;  as  it  is,  we  shall  miss  Cordova,  which  we 
ought  to  have  seen.  But  Harry  is  in  a  hurry  to  move 
northwards. 


233 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Jaen,  April  5. 
Poulticing  to  begin  with,  and  washing  with  strong 
solution  of  lunar  caustic,  took  the  inflammation  out  of  the 
Moor's  shoulder,  and  helped  the  place  to  heal  up  in  time 
to  leave  Granada,  after  the  ten  or  twelve  days  we  had  pro- 
posed to  stay.  The  new  saddles  we  have  bought  are  of 
better  construction,  and  do  not  touch  the  obnoxious 
place  ;  so  I  think  we  have  now  reason  to  be  thankful  that 
this  rather  formidable  difficulty  is  well  over  for  the 
present. 

We  rode  out  of  the  city  by  the  Camino  real  de  Jaen,  and 
soon  we  came  in  sight  of  the  arco  de  media  legua^  a  single 
arch  (of  an  aqueduct,  I  think),  which  crosses  the  road  at 
about  half  a  league  from  Granada.  It  grew  nearer  and 
nearer,  as  the  feet  of  our  unconscious  ponies  pattered  along 
the  road  ;  and  as  the  pattering  turned  to  a  deep  hollow 
sound  beneath  the  echoes  of  the  arch,  "  Goodness  me  ! "  I 
cried,  "my  cloak  is  gone!"  This  great,  heavy,  folded  mass, 
weighing,  I  should  say,  at  least  ten  pounds,  had  slipped  ofF 
from  where  I  had  laid  it  across  the  pommel  of  the  saddle 
and  my  thighs,  without  either  my  feeling  it  go,  or  Harry 
seeing  it. 

We  turned  our  ponies'  heads,  and  saw  a  man  running 
towards  us  in  the  distance.  Luckily,  we  had  been  riding 
only  at  a  foot's  pace.     The  man  came  up  very  much  out  of 

234 


A  Recovery 

breath,  and  said  some  workmen  had  found  the  cloak,  and  had 
wanted  to  keep  it ;  but  he,  being — as  he  left  us  to  infer — an 
honest  man,  had  run  to  overtake  us,  if  possible.  I  returned 
with  him,  and  found,  sure  enough,  that  there  was  an  indis- 
position on  the  part  of  the  workmen  to  give  up  their  booty. 
The  spokesman  made  difficulties  about  believing  me  to  be 
the  real  owner  ;  but  I  gave  him  a  specification  of  the  cloak, 
— that  it  had  vueltas  rojas  (red  facings)  and  silver  clasps, 
and  moreover  that  it  had  been  ensanchado  atrasy  por  no  ser 
antes  capa  redonda  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  broad  gusset  or  goar 
had  been  let  in  te  make  it  wider.  These  specifications, 
properly  seasoned  with  imprecational  expletives,  obtained 
me  the  capa^  and  having  given  my  informant  a  peseta^  I 
cantered  back. 

Harry  was  waiting  for  me  at  the  door  of  a  venta^  where  I 
had  turned  back.  He  had  found  a  companion,  who,  on  my 
return,  saluted  me  with  congratulations  on  the  recovery  of 
my  cloak.  This  man  walked  along  with  us  some  way.  His 
name  was  Jos^  Vigil — a  blacksmith  and  farrier  in  some 
village  at  the  other  side  of  Granada, — travelling  on  foot  as 
far  as  Jaen,  where  he  was  going  to  pass  the  Holy  Week 
with  some  relations.  He  hoped  to  see  "  El  rostra  del 
Senor  "  before  his  return.  We  did  not  know  exactly  what 
he  meant  at  first,  till  we  recollected  that  there  is  one  of  the 
numerous  duplicates  of  the  ^^  santa  rostra  ^^  (holy  face)  im- 
pressed in  the  napkin  of,  I  believe,  St^.  Veronica  in  the 
reliquary  of  Jaen. 

"  And  of  what  nation  may  you  be,  caballeros  ?  " 

"  You  shall  guess.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Perchance  Italians  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  my  friend  here  is  a 
Frenchman.  It  is  a  custom  in  our  countries,  which  are 
neighbouring,  as  it  were  La  Mancha  and  Andalusia,  for  the 


A  Piece  of  Gratuitous  Fiction 

children  to  learn  the  languages  of  both.  My  father  had  a 
friend  in  France,  and  they  made  an  agreement  that  for  three 
years  I  should  stay  during  half  of  each  year  with  them  in 
Paris,  and  he  the  other  six  months  with  us  in  London.  So 
we  became  friends — much  the  same  as  brothers.  And, 
besides,  my  companion  has  a  sister  very  amiable.  I  have 
long  loved  her,  and  this  year  we  were  to  have  been  married, 
only  my  health  was  not  good  ;  and  as  my  companion,  who  is 
in  the  wine-trade,  had  some  business  in  Andalusia,  it  was 
agreed  that  we  should  pass  this  winter  together  in  a  southern 
climate,  for  up  there  it  is  very  cold.  Now,  as  the  summer 
is  coming  on,  we  are  returning  northwards  ;  and  as  we 
came  out  by  sea,  we  have  bought  these  ponies,  and  are 
returning  by  land  to  see  the  country." 

"  You  are  fortunate  caballeros  to  have  the  means  of  tra- 
velling. I  have  often  wished  I  could  travel  myself,  for  it 
must  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  the  world.  But  I  am  not 
a  rich  man,  like  you.  I  have  no  spare  money  to  wear  in 
horse-shoes  and  wheel-tires  :   I  live  by  making  them." 

"  Every  man  is  rich,  my  good  man,  who  can  make  an 
honest  living,  and  who  has  wisdom  enough  to  be  content. 
Happiness  dwells  quite  as  much  at  home  in  the  workshop 
of  healthy  labour  as  on  the  road  ;  and  discontent  often 
travels  both  on  horseback  and  in  coaches." 

"  That  is  true,  seiior  ;  and,  thanks  be  to  God,  I  am  not 
dissatisfied  with  my  lot.  But  God  made  the  world  for  us 
all,  and  doubtless  it  is  well  worth  seeing.  They  tell  me 
our  country  is  far  behind  France  and  England  in  science. 
With  you,  men  fly  and  travel  with  incredible  swiftness  in 
steamboats  and  railways,  which  we  have  never  seen.  I 
much  wonder  what  a  railroad  is  like." 

"  A  railroad  is  a  level  tract  cut  through  whatever  uneven 
ground    may  come  in  the  way.     Sometimes  it    runs  in  a 

236 


A   Traveller's  Tale 

trench  dug  fifty  or  sixty  feet  deep  in  a  hill ;  sometimes  it  goes 
across  a  valley  on  arches  as  high  as  the  Alhambra  stands 
above  Granada  ;  sometimes  it  plunges  through  the  stony 
heart  of  a  mountain,  and  comes  out,  after  a  league  of  dark- 
ness underground.  It  is  laid  with  continuous  bars  of  iron, 
on  which  the  wheels  fit,  so  that  whatever  pace  it  goes  the 
carriages  cannot  run  off  the  road." 

"  But  in  what  sort  of  a  carriage  do  they  travel  on  these 
iron  roads  ? " 

"  There  is  a  long  string  of  forty  or  fifty  carriages,  each 
four  or  five  times  as  big  as  a  d'lligencia.  It  looks  like  a 
gigantic  caterpillar,  with  a  hundred  wheels  instead  of  legs. 
It  has  a  great  iron  head  like  a  dragon,  containing  the 
engine,  which  pulls  the  whole  line,  and  snorts  great  clouds 
of  steam  from  its  nostrils,  and  breathes  flame,  and  drops 
bright  burning  coals  from  its  fiery  mouth.  You  hear  a  great 
panting  sound  like  a  giant  out  of  breath  afar  off.  You  see  a 
square  spot  in  the  distance,  which  grows  rapidly  bigger  and 
bigger  in  your  eye  as  it  comes  puff — puff — puffing.  In  a  mo- 
ment it  is  here  with  a  crashing  noise  ;  and  the  next  moment 
it  has  passed  you  as  quick  as  a  swallow  on  the  wing,  and  is 
rumbling  and  puffing  away  in  the  distance  at  the  other  side. 
They  can  go  five-and-twenty  leagues  in  an  hour,  though 
they  seldom  do,  for  such  a  speed  would  wear  the  carriages 
out  too  quickly  ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  almost  enough  to  rattle 
them  to  pieces." 

In  this  discourse  we  passed  a  small  shed,  too  wretched  to 
be  called  a  venta^  though  they  sold  wine  there.  As  it 
was  a  hot  and  thirsty  day,  I  called  for  a  reaPs  worth  of 
wine,  and  they  brought  us  about  a  quart,  which  we  drank, 
and  went  on. 

He  said  they  had  given  us  less  than  our  money's  worth. 
I  said  I  had  asked  for  a  reafs  worth,  and  as  long  as  they 


Bridges  and  Women 

gave  us  what  we  wanted  to  drink,  I  was  indifferent  what  the 
regular  price  might  be. 

"Oh !"  said  he,  "if  you  have  more  money  than  you  want, 
you  might  give  it  away  to  more  deserving  men  than  those 
rogues  the  venteros^  who  rob  many  more  honest  men  in  their 
time  than  do  the  regular  bandits  of  the  highway.  But  one 
ought  not  to  be  too  hard  upon  them,  poor  fellows  ;  they 
live  in  constant  temptation  to  be  rogues,  and  their  con- 
science gets  as  much  trodden  under  foot  and  worn  away  as 
the  stone  step  at  their  threshold." 

We  passed  a  bridge  with  a  very  high  pointed  arch,  which 
he  said  he  had  always  admired  as  peculiarly  graceful. 
"  Yes,"  we  replied,  "  but  it  is  not  so  convenient  as  a  flatter 
one ;  for  you  have  to  go  up  and  down  a  very  steep  hill  on 
either  side." 

"Beauty  and  convenience,"  he  rejoined,  "are  seldom 
compatible.  In  that  respect  a  bridge  resembles  a  woman  ; 
all  are  dangerous,  and  the  beautiful  are  less  convenient  and 
useful  than  the  plain  ;  but,  still,  without  a  bridge  and  a 
woman,  you  cannot  pass  your  river  or  your  life  ;  unless  you 
ford  the  one  wet-shod,  or  pass  the  other  uncomfortably  as  a 
bachelor." 

As  he  talked  and  walked  away  at  a  great  pace,  the  day 
growing  hotter  and  hotter,  he  got  out  of  breath  ;  and  as  we 
had  to  reach  the  Venta  de  Cegri,  which  was,  for  us,  a  good 
day's  journey  from  Granada ;  and  we  had  been  going  slower 
than  usual,  for  the  sake  of  Mr.  Vigil's  company,  we  now 
thanked  him  for  the  same,  and  said  we  must  pass  on,  and 
we  hoped  he  would  overtake  us  where  we  should  stop  to 
bait.  He  thanked  us  for  our  cortesia  y  filantrop'ia  (courtesy 
and  philanthropy),  and  bid  us  go  with  God. 

It  is  striking  to  us,  who  are  accustomed  to  connect  the 
use  of  complicated  Latinised  words  with  a  studious  classical 

238 


The  Revolver 

education,  to  hear  them  flow  naturally  from  the  mouth  of  a 
peasant  ;  but  to  the  Spaniard,  the  Latin  is  what  the  Saxon 
in  our  language  is  to  our  own  peasantry — the  ground-work 
of  his  language,  and  the  pabulum  from  which  all  his  most 
homely  and  household  words  are  fashioned  ;  whereas  the 
Latin  element  with  us  is  an  after-polish,  glazed  on  by 
education. 

We  now  trotted  forward,  and  shortly  reached  a  venta^ 
where  some  clumsy  carts  and  oxen  were  standing  before  the 
gateway.  Entering,  we  put  up  our  ponies.  The  host  took 
very  little  notice  of  us — a  lazy  varlet,  smoking  the  cigarillo 
of  tranquility  in  the  sun  ;  we  could  hardly  persuade  him 
to  get  us  out  the  barley  we  asked  for.  He  shortly  began  to 
eat  a  hunch  of  bread,  with  a  slice  of  raw  ham  laid  on  it ; 
and  we,  being  very  hungry,  and  finding  there  was  nothing 
better  to  be  had,  got  some  too.  It  rather  went  against  my 
stomach,  but  Harry  said  the  salting  was  nearly  the  same 
thing  as  cooking,  and  he  had  eaten  a  great  deal  of  raw  ham 
on  the  plains  in  America. 

Afterwards,  as  we  sat  smoking,  it  occurred  to  us  to  fire 
off  our  pistols,  to  see  if  they  would  go  off,  and  to  charge 
again,  so  that  robbers  should  find  us  in  an  efficiently  explo- 
sive state  of  preparation,  in  case  they  came,  though  we  have 
now  almost  given  up  all  hopes  of  having  any  more  adven- 
tures of  that  kind. 

A  considerable  number  of  men  were  attracted  to  the  spot 
by  the  report  of  our  pistols,  which  we  fired  at  the  swallows 
on  the  rafters  of  the  shed  beneath  which  we  were  sitting. 
They  (not  the  swallows)  were  particularly  struck  with  the 
revolver,  and  one  of  them  said, — 

"  Carajo,  it  is  already  evident  that  it  would  be  a  bad 
speculation  to  rob  these  men  "  ;  showing  plainly  that  his 
sympathies  were  all  on  the  side  of  the  thieves,  whose  fatal 

239 


A  Short  Cut 

mistake,  in  case  they  attempted  such  a  thing,  they  seemed 
cordially  to  commiserate.  I  fired  the  six  barrels  in 
rapid  succession,  saying,  "  Un  ladron — dos  ladrones — tres 
ladrones — cuatro  ladrones — cinco  ladrones — seis  ladrones — 
y  el  capitan,"  i  finally  discharging  the  large-muzzled,  single- 
barrelled  pistol  of  Harry's,  which  I  also  carried  in  my  faja^ 
his  three  others  being  as  much  as  he  could  conveniently  do 
with. 

We  now  rode  on,  and  coming  to  another  venta^  found  our 
friend  Vigil  finishing  his  dinner.  He  came  along  with  us, 
limping  a  little,  for  he  was  getting  foot-sore.  Our  ponies 
were  rather  tired,  and  we  got  off  and  led  them.  I  felt  that 
to  the  poor,  weary,  foot-sore  man  it  must  seem  unreasonable 
that  ponies  should  go  with  empty  backs  ;  however,  I  could 
not  afford  to  make  the  Moor,  with  his  still  doubtful  remains 
of  a  sore  shoulder,  do  more  work  than  I  myself  required, 
and  so  I  compromised  the  matter  with  my  conscience,  by 
offering  to  carry  his  cloak,  which  relieved  him  considerably, 
without  sensibly  affecting  the  Moor. 

Towards  the  end  of  our  day's  work,  when  we  were  all 
very  weary,  with  the  advice  and  sanction  of  Vigil — who  had 
been  this  road  before,  though  long  ago — we  took  one  of 
those  short  cuts  which  profess  to  slice  something  off  across 
an  angle  of  the  road,  but  which  generally  more  than  balance 
the  account  by  steepness  and^ roughness.  This  one  fully 
came  up  to  the  usual  short-cut  character;  and  after  climbing 
up  a  ladder  of  rocks,  we  found  that  our  wretched  bad  road 
was  diverging  away  over  the  hill  from  the  right  direction, 
and  never  likely  to  meet  the  camino  real  more.  At  right 
angles  to  our  present  direction  appeared  a  large  square 
white  building  in  the  valley  below  ;  and  as  no  part  of  the 
hill-side  was,  or  could  well  be,  more  rocky  than  this  by-path, 

'  One  robber— two  robbers,  &c.,  and  the  captain. 
240 


Venta  de  Cegri 


we  left  it,  and  performing  a  slow  steeple-chase  across  the 
country,  reached  the  Venta  de  Cegri. 

Before  the  gateway  a  number  of  women  and  children  and 
soldiers  were  scattered  in  picturesque  groups ;  the  women 
sewing,  peeling  potatoes,  or  picking  lettuces  for  salad. 
The  carabineros  (who  have  a  station  here)  were  loitering 
about,  talking  to  the  women,  or  playing  with  the  children. 
They  were  all  gathered  there  to  take  the  last  out  of  the 
warmth  and  light  of  the  sun,  which  was  fast  sloping  to  the 
western  hills.  We  unsaddled  our  beasts.  Vigil  gave  a 
favourable  professional  opinion  of  the  Moor's  shoulder, 
which  he  said  was  quite  well  and  healed  up,  without  hkeli- 
hood  of  relapse.  Coming  out  to  take  our  share  of  the 
sunset,  innumerable  mules  and  arrieros  kept  arriving,  and 
there  was  a  great  bustle.  A  man  brought  a  donkey,  whose 
ample  panniers  were  piled  with  lettuces,  and  I  purchased 
three  at  a  cuarto  each  (three  cuartos  are  about  a  penny), 
and  gave  them  to  a  daughter  of  the  house,  to  pick  for 
salad. 

The  ventero  now  came  up,  and  asked  us,  "  Would  we  be 
pleased  to  sup  ?  There  were  some  partridges  and  rabbits 
in  the  olla'"'  This  was  a  great  windfall :  but  we  were  now 
travelling  on  a  great  road,  where  the  ventas  are  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  can  make  preparations  for  the  chance  comers  of 
the  evening,  with  more  probability  of  customers  turning  up 
to  pay  for  the  stew.  We  had  some  rice  fried  in  oil  to  eat 
with  the  olla^  which,  with  our  salad,  made  an  excellent 
supper.  We  invited  Vigil.  He  was  off  his  feed,  however, 
and  could  only  be  persuaded  to  eat  some  bread  and  salad, 
and  drink  a  little  wine. 

It  was  now  a  question  where  to  sleep.  All  the  dwelling- 
rooms  in  the  upper  story  of  the  venta  were  occupied  by  the 
company  of  carabineros.     We  therefore  disposed  ourselves 

241 


Puerto  de  Arenas 

on  the  stone  benches  which  surround  the  chimney-corner, 
arranging  our  saddles  and  alforjas  for  pillows,  and  wrapping 
our  "  martial  cloaks  around  us." 

"Who  sleep  on  couches  hard  are  up  betimes." 

When  the  dawn  looked  in  upon  the  smouldering  ashes  of  the 
hearth,  we  arose,  shook  ourselves,  fed  our  ponies,  and 
departed.  About  five  miles  on  the  road  we  stopped  to 
breakfast.  While  the  ponies  were  feeding,  I  sat  on  the 
village  fountain,  smoking  in  the  sun.  Here  Vigil  came  for 
a  drink  as  he  was  passing.  I  asked  him  to  go  into  our 
posada^  which  was  just  opposite  the  fountain,  and  have  a 
cup  of  chocolate,  which  he  accepted.  Here  we  took  leave 
of  him  for  good,  and  he  thanked  us  for  our  caballeresque 
conduct  and  benevolence  towards  him. 

The  valley  along  which  the  road  ran,  shortly  after  this 
began  to  straiten,  till  it  came  at  last  to  so  narrow  a  gorge 
between  lofty  precipitous  crags,  that  there  was  not  room 
for  both  the  stream  and  the  way.  The  latter  was  tunnelled 
through  the  rock.  The  day  was  very  hot,  and  the  breeze 
blowing  through  the  cool  cavern  was  dehcious.  Emerging 
at  the  other  end,  the  clear  stream,  gurgling  among  its  rocky 
basins,  reminded  us  that  we  might  at  least  wash  our  hands 
and  faces  here  for  the  first  time  to-day. 

"  The  place  seems  made  for  the  purpose  !  " 

"  No  doubt,  and  specially  for  us." 

"  Well,  let  this  be  my  washhand-stand,  and  that 
yours"  (pointing  to  the  two  gigantic  precipices  on  either 
side  of  the  stream).  Having  relieved  ourselves  of  this 
little  burst  of  the  enthusiastic  egotism  which  belongs  to 
travellers,  we  washed  our  hands  and  faces  at  the  Puerto 
de  Arenas. 

242 


My  Cloak 


Know,  people  of  all  climes  and  races, 

Who  pass  the  "gate  of  sands," 
That  in  the  stream,  which  laves  the  bases 
Of  these  tall  rocks,  we  washed  our  faces. 
And  likewise  washed  our  hands. 


Signed,  I  ^; 


I.  C. 
I.  c. 


P.S. — We  therefore  take  our  solemn  dick, 
These  are  the  rocks  of  Hie  and  Gic. 


This  inscription  was  not  carved  on  the  face  of  the  free- 
stone in  letters  a  foot  high  and  three  inches  deep  ;  because, 
though  cherishing  that  reverential  desire  to  perpetuate  the 
initial  letters  of  our  names  in  lasting  materials  vi^hich  is  one 
of  the  noblest  features  of  a  travelling  Briton's  character,  we 
could  not  afford  to  sacrifice  a  day  even  to  so  memorable  an 
occasion. 

An  hour  or  two  after,  a  diligence  appeared  behind  us,  and 
we  drew  up  to  let  it  pass.  They  suddenly  quickened  their 
pace,  and  galloped  past  us  at  full  speed.  Perhaps  they  took 
us  for  thieves  ;  at  any  rate  it  suggested  the  idea  to  us — 
What,  if  we  should  rob  them  ?  They  would  certainly  give 
up  their  money  ;  but  the  question  was  how  we  should  escape 
afterwards.  Ourselves  we  could  disguise,  by  changing  our 
Andalusian  dress  for  shooting-jackets  and  trousers  ;  but  our 
ponies — could  we  arrange  our  cloaks  and  manias  so  as  to 
alter  their  appearance  ?  Here  I  looked  round  for  my  cloak, 
which  I  had  rolled  up  in  my  little  mania  and  tied  with  tape 
to  the  tin  loops  behind  the  saddle.  But  the  loops,  which 
were  rather  rough,  had  cut  the  tape,  and  the  cloak  was  gone. 
This  time  it  did  not  seem  worth  while  to  go  back  for  it,  as 
we  had  already  made  a  long  day's  work,  and  a  league  and 
a  half  yet  remained  to  Jaen.  Besides,  the  cloak  was  not 
worth  much,  and  very  heavy  ;  and  I  still  had  my  Scotch 
plaid  to  keep  the  rain  off,  which  would  be  enough,  unless 

243  « 


Sadly  Disturbed 


we  had  to  sleep  without  beds  again.  I  was  therefore  thank- 
ful not  to  have  lost  it  the  day  before,  for  I  should  have  been 
wretchedly  off  without  it  last  night  on  the  stone  bench.  I 
now  understood  its  evident  predisposition  to  get  lost  the  day 
before  at  the  Arco  de  Media  Legua.  I  have  often  observed, 
that  when  a  thing  is  about  to  be  shortly  lost  altogether,  it 
loosens  itself  gradually  from  your  possession  by  several  pre- 
vious delinquencies.  So  I  made  up  my  mind  to  buy  a 
better  one  in  Madrid. 

Since  the  Puerto  de  Arenas,  the  ravine  had  widened  into 
a  valley  again,  and  the  stream  to  a  strong  torrent.  Jaen 
stands  where  the  valley  opens  out,  among  ragged  spurs  of 
the  mountains,  upon  the  plain.  On  one  of  these  stands  the 
Moorish  castle  of  Jaen,  with  ruined  fortifications  following 
the  ridge  in  zig-zags  down  to  the  city. 

We  crossed  the  river,  and  rode  up  into  the  town.  Near 
the  gate  was  the  Posada  del  Santo  Rostro.  Here  we  supped, 
and  I  went  to  sleep  at  once  in  my  clothes,  lying  on  my  bed. 
In  the  middle  of  the  night,  or  rather  about  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  I  woke  up,  severely  bitten  by  bugs.  I  heard 
a  clattering  of  horses  below.  The  last  thing  on  one's  mind 
over-night  will  strike  one  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
I  suppose  I  had  some  drowsy  consciousness  that  I  ought  to 
have  unsaddled  the  Moor  before  going  to  bed,  and  that  the 
clattering  might  be  some  unscrupulous  muleteer  departing 
early  to  get  away  unobserved  with  my  saddle.  Going 
downstairs,  I  found  it  was  only  an  arriero  leading  his  mules 
to  drink  at  a  clear  broad  trough  of  running  water,  near  the 
entrance  of  the  posada.  The  gate  however  was  shut,  and 
nobody  appeared  to  have  departed  yet. 

I  now  made  an  excursion  through  about  sixty  or  seventy 
yards  of  stabling,  edging  my  way  between  the  tails  of  two 
long  rows  of  mules,  standing  as  close  together  as  they  could 

244 


False  Alarm 

be  packed.  The  Moor  was  lying  like  a  dead  horse,  with 
his  head  down  and  his  legs  stretched  out ;  but  he  had  no 
saddle  on.  This  looked  bad,  and  I  went  to  see  if  the  mQ%o 
de  la  cuadra  was  anywhere  to  be  found.  In  the  space  near 
the  entrance  and  fireplace,  the  floor  was  covered  with  mule- 
teers lying  on  the  ground,  with  a  mania  beneath  and  a  capa 
to  cover  them. 

I  could  find  no  mozo  moving  about,  nor  did  I  remember 
his  face,  so  as  to  wake  up  the  right  man  among  the  sleepers. 
At  last,  the  man  who  had  been  watering  his  mules  came  to 
lie  down.  I  asked  him  what  the  ?nozo's  name  was,  and  on 
his  authority  went  about  crying — "  Alfonz666666  !  "  At 
length,  out  of  a  sort  of  dust-hole  closet  near  the  corn-bin, 
came  a  man,  rubbing  his  eyes.  I  told  him  my  grievance, 
and  we  went  together  and  inspected  all  the  premises  with 
no  success.  At  last  he  suggested  that  it  might  be  in  my 
room.  I  said  I  thought  not,  for  I  had  left  it  on,  and  gone 
to  sleep  without  taking  it  to  a  place  of  safety.  However, 
when  we  came  upstairs  with  a  lamp,  there  it  was  in  the 
anteroom  of  our  chamber,  where  Harry,  seeing  me  fast 
asleep,  had  deposited  it.  I  was  rather  ashamed  at  the  trouble 
I  had  caused,  and  gave  the  mozo  a  cigar,  by  way  of  a  sop. 
He  went  away  quite  satisfied,  nor  the  least  vexed  at  his  rest 
being  broken  on  an  emergency  which  ended  in  smoke.  As 
I  was  now  thoroughly  awake,  and  had  no  desire  to  go  to 
sleep  again,  I  lit  the  lamp,  and  got  my  inkstand  and  blotting- 
book  out  of  the  alforjas.  My  lamp  has  just  burned  out  for 
want  of  oil,  and  I  finish  this  by  daylight,  which  has  luckily 
supervened.  I  had  slept  from  about  eight  to  three  in  the 
morning,  which  is  seven  hours.  It  is  now  time  to  wake 
Harry  up,  and  go  and  feed  the  ponies. 

There,  I  have  given  them  a  medio  apiece,  and  they  are 
munching  away  heartily.     Harry  is  dressing,  and  grumbles 

245 


Bug  Tortures 

considerably  about  being  bitten.  It  appears  they  attacked 
him  during  the  early  part  of  the  night,  so  that  he  could  not 
get  to  sleep  ;  and  that  when  they  took  pity  on  him,  they 
came  over  to  me,  and  waked  me  up.  However,  you  are 
obliged  to  them  and  the  saddle,  and  the  arriero  watering 
his  mules,  for  this  chapter. 

The  mo%a  (chamber-maid)  is  bringing  our  two  jicaras  of 
chocolate,  so  I  must  clear  the  table. 


1 


246 


CHAPTER  XXII 

La  Mancha,   April  J. 

Leaving  Jaen  by  the  great  Madrid  road,  we  followed  the 
same  for  about  a  league,  and  then  turned  off  to  the  right, 
taking  a  by-path  for  Torre  Quebradilla. 

In  sight  of  this  pretty  village,  we  halted  by  the  border  of 
a  barley-field  ;  Harry,  to  sketch  the  place,  and  I — as  my 
forte  does  not  lie  in  landscape — to  draw  the  Cid  and  his 
master.  They  formed  a  picturesque  group  ;  Harry  sitting 
cross-legged  on  the  grassy  bank,  and  the  Cid,  his  bridle 
looped  round  the  artist's  knee,  nibbling  the  herbage. 

The  impatient  little  jerks  of  the  rein,  when  the  latter 
strained  towards  some  tempting  tuft  just  beyond  his  reach, 
were  shortly  found  so  detrimental  to  the  artistic  process, 
that  the  Cid  was  turned  adrift ;  and  I  followed  this  example 
with  the  equally  troublesome  Moor. 

Our  steeds,  being  now  free  to  adopt  a  diet  of  their  own 
choosing,  began  to  show  a  decided  preference  for  the  tender 
green  barley,  into  which  they  unceremoniously  waded  knee- 
deep.  We  were  soon  interrupted  in  finishing  our  sketches 
by  an  indignant  protest  from  the  owner  of  the  barley-field, 
who  came  up  in  breathless  wrath,  anathematising  both  the 
animals  and  ourselves.  We  begged  him  to  disimular  (excuse) 
our  indiscretion,  caught  our  marauders,  and  entered  the 
village. 

At  the  posadoy  where  we  stopped  to  breakfast,  the  unso- 

247 


Picturesque  Rock 


phisticated  inhabitants  gathered  to  look  at  the  unaccus- 
tomed sight  of  foreigners.  Our  arms,  and  especially  the 
revolver,  astonished  and  delighted  them.  "  They  had  heard 
England  wzs  the  most  wonderful  country  in  the  w^orld.  In 
Biscay,  indeed,  were  made  arms — terrible  weapons ;  but 
nothing  so  astute  as  this."  They  were  almost  equally 
astonished  at  our  drawings ;  and  were  altogether  charmingly 
fresh  and  innocent,  after  the  callous,  indifferent  folks  of  the 
main  road. 

On  our  way  down  the  other  side  of  the  rounded  hill, 
after  leaving  Torre  Quebradilla,  a  bold  isolated  crag  pierced 
the  soil  on  our  right.  It  was  a  mere  trifle,  not  more  than 
forty  or  fifty  yards  high,  but  pretty,  with  much  breadth  of 
massive  shade,  and  gracefully  plumed  with  shrubs. 

"  How  this  would  draw  picnics  in  a  county  where  rocks 
are  not  plentiful  ! — say  Lincolnshire." 

"  Yes,  truly,  a  picnic  is  a  choice  thought  in  this  hungry 
land." 


Here,  in  the  grassy  hollow,  would  be  spread 

The  snowy  cloth — dimpled  with  various  viands. 

Ah  !  cleanly  damask  of  our  native  land  ! 

Ah  !  pleasant  memory  of  pigeon-pie. 

Short-crusted — savoury-j ellied — floury-yolked  ! 

Ah  !   fair  white-bosomed  fowl  with  tawny  tongue 

Well  married  !  lobster-salad,  crisp  and  cool. 

With  polished  silver  from  clean  crockery 

Forked  up — washed  down  with  drinks  that  make  me  now 

Thirsty  to  think  of. 

Yes,  with  ginger-pop 
These  crags  should  echo. 

Ah  !  rare  golden  gleam 
Of  sack  in  silver  goblets  gilt  within  ! — 
Bright  evanescent  raptures  of  champagne — 
Brisk  bottled  stout  in  pewters  creamy  crowned  ! 
248 


Blank  Reminiscences 

And  here  should  sit,  'iieath  gay-fringed  parasols, 
Fair  creatures  with  blue  eyes  and  golden  curls 
(Not  drenched  with  scents  as  foreign  ladies  are), 
Smelling  of  kid  gloves  and  Eau  de  Cologne. 
Shiny  black-belted  youths,  in  braided  caps 
And  braided  blue  frock-coats,  should  wait  on  them, 
Making  substantial  laughter  and  slight  jests — 
Heroes  undress  from  the  next  garrison, 
With  much-Macassared  ringlets  auburn-hued, 
And  corkscrew-twirled  moustache  of  brighter  red — 
Arch  conquerors  of  hearts  in  county  towns. 

And  the  repast  now  ended — Cornet  Phibbs 
Would  bear  the  camp-stool  to  yon  mossy  mound — 
Would  spread  the  sketch-book,  and  the  tumbler  fill 
(For  Cornet  Phibbs  is  quite  the  ladies'  man) ; 
While  sweet  Miss  Flora  Fubbs,  with  much  ado, 
Seating  herself  in  graceful  attitude, 
And  choosing  paint-brushes  and  mixing  paints, 
Declares  she  always  makes  a  wretched  daub 
When  people  stand  and  watch  her  as  she  draws. 

But  Cornet  Phibbs  replies — "  It  is  too  bad  ! 
Ton  honour,  'tis  too  bad.    Gweat  artists  like 
To  make  a  mystewy  and  monopoly. 
Hiding  the  secwets  of  their  art.     Now  I 
Thought  I  should  get  a  winkle  watching  you. 
You  didn't  know  I  dwew  ? — I  learnt  at  school." 

"  Perhaps  you  only  learnt  to  draw  your  sword." 

"  Why,  that  I  can,  of  course — and  also  corks — 
And  covers — haw  ! — haw  ! — haw  !     But  what  I  mean. 
Fortification — haw  ! — in  Indian  ink. 
That  sort  of  thing — and  though  I  dwaw  it  mild — 
Yet  that — haw  ! — haw  ! — that  may  be  called  my  forte." 

"  Oh  fie  !  for  shame  !  where  do  you  think  you'll  go 
For  making  such  a  heap  of  foolish  puns  ? " 

"  Why  to  the  Punjaub  I  should  think — haw  ! — haw  I 
That  sort  of  job  you  know  would  suit  me  best." 

We  knew  we  must  soon  pass  Guadalquivir,  which  would 
here  meet  us  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Seville,  and 
probably  for  the  last  time  in  our  lives.     We  expected  his 

249 


Guadalquivir 


appearance  with  impatience,  as  it  were  the  face  of  an  old 
friend  ;  and,  at  length,  we  heard  the  rushing  of  waters, 
which  we  figured  to  ourselves  a  clear  trout-stream  rippling 
among  rocks. 

"  Hail  !  infant  prince  of  Andalusian  rivers,  which  (since 
we  left  thy  royal  court  on  Seville's  strand,  deep-ranged  with 
fairy  palaces)  hast  younger  grown,  while  we  wax  stale  upon 
our  toilsome  way.  We  heard  the  nursery-babblings  of  thy 
youth,  and  deemed  that  here,  not  far  remote  from  thy 
mountain  cradle,  we  might  behold  thee  clear  and  unpolluted 
yet,  with  that  rich  wealth  of  mud  which,  lower  down,  thou 
takest  as  tribute  from  thine  alluvial  dominions.  We  find 
thee  turbid  in  thy  youth,  as  in  thine  after-age  ;  rolling  foul 
ripples  of  a  livid  red,  as  'twere  pink  madder  mixed  with 
Vandyk  brown  ! 

"  Flow  on,  unworthy  heir  of  noble  destinies  !  for  thou 
shalt  pass  by  glorious  Cordova — eloquent  Cordova  ;  the  gem 
of  the  South  ;  the  flower  of  science  and  of  valour  ;  the  birth- 
place of  Lucan  and  the  Senecas ;  the  city  of  the  great  captain. 
Thou  shalt  wash  the  Moorish  piers  of  Sevilla  la  Maravilla^ 
and  shalt  mix  thy  mud  at  last  with  the  blue  Mediterranean  !  " 

I  shouldn't  wonder  if  my  reader  was  a  little  tired  of 
rhapsodies.  Come,  now,  we  will  hatch  a  little  adventure 
expressly  for  your  amusement. 

Riding  down  the  curious  sloping  bridge,  whose  graduated 
arches  connect  the  high  bank  of  the  river  with  the  low  one, 
we  saw,  about  half  a  mile  ahead,  a  knot  of  people  moving 
on  the  road. 

"It  is  about  time  for  another  batch  of  robbers,"  I  said  ; 
*'  and  if  these  be  thieves,  how  many  are  we  a  match  for  ? " 

"  We  may  reckon  ourselves  a  match  for  four  Spaniards, 
or  two  Englishmen,"  replied  Harry,  "and  no  more  ;  let  us 
be  moderate." 

250 


How  Many  are  we  a  Match   For  ? 

"  I  think  that  is  rather  too  moderate,  considering  our  far 
more  than  ordinary  supply  of  arms,  our  valour,  and  extreme 
readiness  to  fight.  Life  is  a  lottery,  and  so  is  literature, 
and  it's  great  odds  we  shouldn't  both  of  us  be  killed  ;  and 
if  one  of  us  really  was  killed,  it  would  make  the  fortune 
of  our  joint  work,  half  of  which  would  have  to  be  posthu- 
mous. It  would  give  such  reality  to  the  incident,  to  have 
read  in  the  newspapers  about  the  banditti  killing  one  of  the 
authors  named  in  the  title-page." 

"  Good   Heavens,  how  shocking  !     What  do  you  think 

would  say,  if  she  heard  you  talk  in  that  careless  way 

about  an  event  which " 

"  She  would  say  I  was  an  unfeeling  wretch.  But  talking 
about  it  doesn't  m.ake  me  any  more  likely  to  be  killed  ;  and 
one  can't  pick  this  rose.  Adventure,  without  our  fingers 
coming  near  that  thorn.  Danger.  Of  course,  it  would  be 
very  shocking,  and  all  that.  But  I  have  no  sort  of  expec- 
tation of  its  happening.  Moreover,  I  think  you  underrate 
what  we  could  do  with  all  these  pistols.  We  are  more  than 
a  match  for  two  average  Englishmen.  For  instance  ;  we 
overtake  these  three  men  on  their  lazy  mules — we  shall 
soon  reach  them.  Ha  !  by  their  dress,  they  are  not 
Spaniards  !  They  are  two  travelling  Englishmen,  with  a 
Spanish  servant.  Look  ! — by  Jove,  they  have  both  of  them 
silver  spectacles  astride  of  their  pug  noses.  They  are 
clergymen  just  presented  with  livings,  seeing  a  little  of  the 
world  through  glasses  before  they  settle.  Have  at  them  ! 
These  men  shall  never  show  fight  ;  I  warrant  you  they  will 
have  a  bag  of  dollars  apiece  to  give  to  robbers,  as  nervous 
old  ladies  sometimes  carry  sugar-plums,  to  keep  children 
quiet.  Have  at  them,  say  I ;  it  is  a  pity  they  should  carry 
their  money-bags  for  nothing,  and  it  is  as  well  it  shouldn't 
go  out  of  the  family — nation,  I  mean.     Of  course,  you  say 

251 


Cheaper   to  Rob  than  to  be  Robbed 

it  is  ridiculous — so  is  the  beginning  of  every  adventure. 
But  having  stepped  upon  that  rolling  rail  Imprudence,  you 
slip  over  head  and  ears  into  this  river  Necessity,  and  then 
Prudence  shall  bid  you  swim  as  best  you  can,  to  get  your- 
self out.  It  is  the  first  step  only  !  Come,  we  want  robbers 
in  this  part  of  our  work,  and  it  is  both  cheaper  and  more 
convenient  to  rob  than  to  be  robbed  !  " 

Hereupon  we  ride  up — pull  out  our  pistols,  and  are  about 
to  cry  "  Jbaj'o  !  bocca  a  tierra  !  "  ^  with  voices  of  thunder, 
when  we  discover  them  to  be  neither  bandits  nor  pug-nosed 
parsons,  but  cutlers  of  Albacete  returning  from  Jaen,  where 
they  had  been  selling  their  wares.  I  bought  a  poniard  of 
them  for  a  dollar  and  a  half.  The  punales  of  Albacete 
are  famous  :  long,  narrow-pointed,  murderous  weapons, 
not  opening  like  a  Sevillian  navaja^  but  sheathed  as  a 
dagger. 

When  we  had  passed  them,  we  fell  to  discoursing  upon 
imagination,  and  the  degree  with  which  fancy  may  be 
brought  to  resemble  fact.  As  an  instance  of  wonderful 
power  in  this  way,  we  lit  upon  Don  Quixote's  meeting 
with  the  barber  on  his  ass.  First  he  sees  something  shining 
bright,  like  gold,  in  the  distance,  on  the  top  of  a  horseman's 
head.  The  reader  wonders  what  strange  and  incredible 
thing  is  to  appear.  It  turns  out  to  be  a  barber,  returning 
on  his  ass  from  a  neighbouring  village,  where  there  was  no 
resident  member  of  his  profession,  and  he  had  put  his  basin 
over  his  hat,  which  was  a  new  one,  because  it  was  raining 
slightly. 

The  reader  being  satisfied  with  this  circumstantial  solu- 
tion   of   the   apparent    improbability,   and    knowing    Don 
Quixote's    peculiar   insanity,    and    his    previous   difficulties 
with   the  pasteboard  substitute,  is  quite   prepared    for  the 
'  "  Down  !  mouth  to  the  ground  ! " 
252 


Mambrino's  Helmet 

delusion  of  Mambrino's  helmet.  The  scene  being  thus  in 
action,  the  continuation  is  easy  enough.  The  barber  runs 
away  ;  Don  Quixote  rejoices  over  the  helmet  ;  and  Sancho, 
with  his  practical  eye  to  solid  advantages,  exchanges  his 
ass's  shabby  harness  for  that  of  the  barber. 

The  difficulty  and  the  triumph  of  invention  was  to  get 
the  copper  shaving-dish  reasonably  on  the  barber's  head  ; 
or  rather  to  hit  upon  the  incident  of  a  barber  so  peculiarly 
helmed.  This  appears  to  me  to  be  so  difficult  a  thing  to 
have  imagined,  that  I  should  prefer  the  supposition  that 
Cervantes  had  actually  seen  some  barber  with  his  basin  on 
his  head  to  keep  his  new  hat  from  the  rain  ;  and  being 
struck  with  some  vague  similitude  of  a  helmet,  his  imagina- 
tion fell  to  shaping  circumstances  in  which  such  an  incident 
could  be  employed.  As  it  must  have  been  an  imaginative 
lunatic,  full  of  strange  ideas  of  knight-errantry,  who  could 
be  fairly  carried  away  by  a  belief  in  its  being  really  a 
helmet,  it  is  possible  that  hence  may  have  arisen  the  very 
idea  of  a  Don  Quixote.  Indeed,  this  apparently  very 
random  theory  is  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  on  Don 
Quixote's  first  appearance,  his  very  earliest  difficulty  is  with 
the  imperfect  dlada^  which  was  just  defective  in  that  part 
(the  morion^  I  think)  which  the  shaving-dish  was  destined 
to  supply.  In  imaginative  minds  there  is  no  telling  how 
small  a  matter  may  be  the  nucleus  round  which  materials 
gather,  that  again  suggest  other  and  larger  matters,  so  that 
the  original  idea  often  becomes  merely  an  episode  in  the 
complete  result. 

As  we  were  ascending  the  long  hill  which  rises  from  the 
river  up  to  the  town,  the  sun  went  down  over  Jaen,  and 
the  red  sunset,  slanting  along  the  wide  valley,  lit  up  the 
broad  craggy  shoulders  of  the  mountain-range  facing  Baeza 
to  the  south.     Along  the  darkening  plain  a  few  winding 

253 


Our  North-East  Passage 

reaches  still   caught  the  golden  sky  ;  and  so  we  saw  the 
last  of  Guadalquivir. 

Baeza,  not  very  remarkable  as  you  approach,  is  a  curious 
place  inside.  There  is  a  vast  circular  pla'z.a  surrounded  by 
columns  and  arches.  Lighted  up  at  night  by  lamps  in  the 
windows,  with  groups  sauntering  about  in  the  broad  dark 
space,  it  struck  us  as  a  singular  town,  unlike  anything  we  had 
yet  seen.  We  found  the  Posada  de  los  Jardines^  where  we 
supped  on  asparagus-omelette  and  salad.  The  asparagus- 
omelette  is  made  by  frying  the  ends  of  the  shoots  in  oil ; 
and,  when  they  are  done  enough,  the  broken  eggs  are 
poured  into  the  frying-pan,  and  the  whole  mess  stirred  up. 
The  pan  is  not  set  on  again,  being  hot  enough  to  cook 
the  eggs  without  further  application  to  the  fire.  A  good 
omelette  is  founded  in  the  same  manner  on  crisp  fried 
potatoes. 

Up  at  five  next  morning,  and  set  off  in  a  mizzling  rain. 
Not  having  made  sufficiently  particular  inquiries,  we  of 
course  went  wrong  ;  and  as  we  were  busy  talking,  we  got 
within  a  mile  of  Uveda  before  we  found  it  out.  An  old 
man  and  his  son  arrived  as  we  stood  pondering  on  our 
difficulty.  He  answered  our  questions  about  Arquillos 
civilly  enough  ;  but  when  we  began  to  consider  whether 
we  could  not  rectify  our  error  now,  by  going  to  Vilche  and 
get  into  our  route  further  on  than  Arquillos,  the  old  man 
lost  his  patience. 

"  Vilche,  my  good  sirs,  is  by  no  means  in  the  way  to 
Arquillos." 

"  That  is  indifferent  to  us  :  we  desire  to  go  in  a  north- 
east direction,  and  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  tell  us 
whether  this  by-path  here,  leaving  the  road,  will  take  us 
in  that  line  ?  "  This  was  too  metaphysical  an  abstraction 
for  him,  and  he  turned  to  his  son  : 

254 


The  Moor  puts  his   Foot  in  it 

"Come  along,  my  son,  since  it  is  evident  that  these 
cahalleros  neither  know  their  way,  nor  where  they  wish  to 
go, — let  us  continue  our  day's  work  ! " 

So  we  took  the  by-path,  which  proved  very  circuitous 
and  stony,  winding  among  vineyards  and  olive-groves  along 
the  brow  of  a  hill,  till  it  descended  to  El  Marmol,i  in  the 
valley.  This,  so  far  from  being  a  city  of  marble  palaces,  as 
its  name  would  suggest,  was  a  miserable  little  village,  which 
had  no  posada.  We  managed,  however,  to  purchase  some 
barley  at  a  private  house,  and  stood  in  the  porch  while  our 
beasts  picked  a  little  of  the  corn  out  of  the  flat  matting 
basket.  They  were  neither  of  them  hungry,  and  the  Moor 
was  pertinaciously  determined  to  put  his  foot  in  it  instead 
of  his  nose,  and  would  snuff,  and  nibble,  and  twitch  at  the 
rim  of  the  basket ;  and  if  by  any  accident  he  did  get  a 
mouthful  of  corn,  he  was  sure  to  lift  up  his  head  out  of  the 
extempore  manger,  and  scatter  most  of  it  in  the  street.  As 
it  was  raining,  and  we  were  stopping  merely  for  their  ad- 
vantage, you  may  be  sure  we  gave  our  refractory  beasts 
several  severe  reprimands  ;  but  to  no  purpose  ;  we  could 
not  persuade  them  to  be  hungry,  nor  inform  them  they 
would  not  have  another  chance  till  evening. 

Here  they  told  us  that  Vilche  was  out  of  our  way,  and 
that  Las  Navas  was  the  shortest  cut  to  San  Esteban,  where 
we  proposed  to  sleep.  On  our  way  along  this  weary  cross- 
country road  we  overtook  a  farmer,  who  seemed  suspicious 
of  us  at  first  ;  but  was  reassured  of  our  respectability  on 
hearing  we  were  Englishmen.  He  said  he  wondered  we 
were  not  afraid  to  travel  alone  in  a  strange  country.  We 
asked  him  what  there  was  to  be  afraid  of,  telling  him  we 
had  ten  pistol-barrels  between  us.     We  had  not  made  this 

'  Written  El  Marnal  in  the  map,  but  called  El  Marmol  by  the 
people. 


Red  River 

boast  long,  when  Harry  discovered  that  he  had  lost  one  of 
his  long  pistols  out  of  hhfaja. 

This  was  on  the  bank  of  the  brickdust-coloured  Guadal- 
ahmar  [Arabice  red  river),  near  a  wooden  cross  set  up  to 
the  memory  of  a  murdered  man.  We  turned  back  as  far 
as  the  bridge  over  the  river,  which  we  had  crossed  about  a 
mile  before,  and  met  some  muleteers.  We  suspected  by 
their  manner  that  they  had  found  it,  though  they  stoutly 
denied  it. 

I  was  for  searching  them  by  main  force ;  but  Harry 
thought  it  better  to  bribe  them  ;  so  he  offered  half  an  ounce 
of  gold  to  any  well-disposed  person  who  would  bring  it  to 
us  at  San  Esteban,  if  it  was  found  by  anybody  they  met 
during  the  day.  It  has  not  yet  appeared,  and  I  fear  there 
is  little  chance.  I  wish  we  had  searched  the  men,  which 
would  have  been  easily  done. 

On  to  Las  Navas — small  venta ;  a  little  further  two  roads 
diverge  at  a  well :  here  our  ponies  drank,  and  we  went  to 
the  right,  the  narrower  track  of  the  two.  It  led  along  a 
broad  valley.  A  sharp  shower  overtook  us,  and  we  begged 
for  shelter  at  a  cortijo  or  farm-house. 

When  the  chaparron  had  blown  over,  a  Valencian  lad, 
from  the  Venta  San  Esteban^  who  had  come  on  a  message 
from  the  ventero  to  his  uncle  (the  farmer  with  whom  we 
had  taken  refuge),  undertook  to  accompany  us  to  our  des- 
tination. This  was  lucky,  as  the  night  came  on  very  dark, 
and  the  way  lay  across  a  stony,  sloppy  wilderness,  through 
which  it  would  have  been  extremely  difficult  to  see  any 
way  at  all,  without  guidance,  by  that  light,  or  rather 
darkness. 

We  reached  the  venta^  not  before  we  were  very  tired  ; 
and  as  we  had  dined  at  Las  Navas,  and  were  not  hungry 
for  supper,  we  made  some  aguardiente  egg-flip  in  a   great 

256 


Making  Game  of  Travellers 

glass  mug  with  a  handle,  holding  more  than  a  quart.  The 
flip  was  not  good,  for  want  of  sugar  :  there  was  none  in  the 
house.  There  were  no  beds  either,  and  we  had  to  sleep  on 
two  wretched  narrow  mattresses,  or  broad  bolsters  (bags 
stuffed  with  straw  and  fleas),  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  horses.  Indeed  they  were  only  walled  off  by  a  low 
partition  ;  and  we  could  hear  the  Cid  and  Moor  munching 
their  barley  over  our  heads  till  we  fell  asleep. 

We  had  requested  to  sleep  in  the  straw-loft,  but  our  host 
absolutely  refused,  saying  that  "  St.  John  the  Baptist  him- 
self should  not  go  up  into  his  pajar^ 

Next  morning  we  were  up  betimes,  and  made  our  first 
stage  to  Montizon.  The  country  hereabouts  changes  from 
broad  cultivated  valleys  to  the  rolling  hills  of  the  dehesa. 
Riding  over  one  of  these,  we  heard  numerous  voices  in  the 
brushwood — a  partridge  got  up — bang — no  effect — bang — 
this  time  the  bird  fell.  We  stopped  a  little  while  to  see 
the  sport,  and  shortly  about  twenty  men  armed  with 
muskets  came  out  upon  the  road.  We  were  a  little  afraid 
they  might  think  it  came  well  into  their  day's  work  to  do 
a  stroke  of  business  in  the  way  of  traveller-shooting.  How- 
ever, deeming  it  better  not  to  seem  to  entertain  the  possi- 
bility, we  rode  up  to  the  party,  and  in  a  patronising  manner 
asked  to  see  the  contents  of  the  bag,  as  we  might  prove 
purchasers.  There  was  only  one  rabbit  besides  the  partridge 
we  had  just  seen  slain  ;  but  that  was  enough  for  our  dinner, 
so  we  bought  them,  and  strung  them  on  the  iron  rings  of 
our  respective  halters. 

On  reaching  Venta  Ouemada,  we  had  our  rabbit  and 
partridge  hacked  up  and  fried  in  oil ;  and  it  was  very  good 
and  tender,  not  having  had  time  to  cool. 

There  was  a  man  smoking  a  pipe,  a  very  rare  thing  in 
these  parts,  where  the  paper  cigar  is  almost  universal.     This 

257 


A  Calumet 

pipe  was  made  seven  years  ago.  He  had  cut  the  bowl  out 
of  a  soft  black  stone,  and  the  stem  was  a  twig  from  the 
dehesa,  with  the  pith  pushed  out.  This  pipe  at  once  struck 
my  fancy.  It  had  a  quaint  barbarian  character,  and  looked 
something  like  one  of  the  Red  Indians'  calumets  on  a  small 
scale. 

Harry  was  smoking  a  filthy  white  halfpenny  clay,  bought 
at  Gibraltar.  I  saw,  by  the  man's  looking  at  it,  that  he 
thought  Harry's  the  best  of  the  two,  and  I  said  I  had  one 
of  that  sort  which  I  would  swop  with  him.  He  jumped  at 
the  idea,  and  I  got  mine  out  of  the  alforjas^  where  it  was 
carefully  stowed  as  a  corps  de  reserve^  in  case  I  broke  my 
own  faithful  black  clay,  which  has  served  a  year  or 
more. 

The  man,  seeing  what  a  number  of  old  gloves  stiffened  with 
cards  it  came  out  of,  conceived  my  halfpenny  pipe  must  be 
an  object  of  great  value,  and  evidently  thought  he  had  taken 
advantage  of  my  simplicity.  But  after  all,  perhaps  he  did 
take  me  in.  We  value  what  is  rare  to  us.  To  him  the 
civilised  pipe  was  a  rarity,  to  me  the  barbarian ;  and  if  civili- 
sation be  the  better  state  of  the  two,  of  course  he  had  the 
best  of  it.  But  then  his  pipe  was  unique — made  by  hand, 
with  much  labour  ;  the  other,  turned  out  of  a  mould  which 
had  fashioned  fifty  thousand. 

Riding  on  among  the  winding  hills,  a  theory  was  started 
to  show  why  mountain  scenery  was  more  popular  than  dead 
levels.  We  agreed  that,  more  than  superior  beauty,  rapid 
change,  and  the  uncertainty  of  what  you  are  coming  to,  make 
the  reputation  of  mountains.  Looking  over  a  long  plain, 
and  seeing  all  the  towns  and  towers  you  can  reach  in  a  day 
or  two,  is  a  limited  species  of  foreknowledge,  which  is  too 
much  for  humanity.  If  we  had  the  gift  of  prophecy,  life 
would  be  a  dead  level.     That  beautiful  and  accomplished 

258 


Foreknowledge  Makes  Life  Plain 

young  lady,  Miss  Amusement,  derives  her  origin  from  old 
Grandfather  Doubt  and  old  Grandmother  Curiosity. 

Amusement  is  the  business  of  foolish  men — to  them  every- 
thing is  uncertainty,  and  the  smallest  trifles  exciting.  The 
wise  man,  who  sees  much  further  before  his  nose,  is  not  so 
easily  amused  :  he  requires  to  be  engaged  in  deeper  and 
more  perplexing  matters,  in  order  to  obtain  that  anxiety 
which  is  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  life. 

But  though  the  fool  is  more  easily  amused,  he  is  also 
more  easily  impatient.  To  see  your  way  before  you,  shortens 
your  way.  Uncertainty  gives  excitement — foreknowledge 
patience. 

Descending  from  the  hills  into  a  broad  green  vega^  we 
crossed  a  rapid,  red,  muddy  stream,  which  divides  Andalusia 
from  La  Mancha.  Crossing  it,  we  saw  a  great  castle  not  far 
off  to  the  left.  A  little  further  on,  turning  round  for 
another  view  of  it,  it  was  gone,  and  there  was  no  apparent 
reason  in  the  lying  of  the  land  ;  and  I  immediately  decided 
it  was  an  enchanted  castle,  and  I  said  I  would  invent  a  legend 
for  it.  Round  about  this  vega  there  seem  a  good  many 
castles. 

A  little  after  sunset  we  rode  into  La  Torre,  a  straggling 
village,  which,  however,  had  a  decent  posada.  Here  we  found 
a  knife-grinder,  who  put  an  edge  on  our  daggers,  which  are 
rather  blunted  with  cutting  Cavendish  for  our  pipes.  The 
host,  seeing  our  pistols,  was  astonished  ;  and  as  he  of  course 
told  everybody,  we  soon  had  a  levee  of  all  the  magnates  of 
the  place.  They  agreed  my  revolver  was  '■'■una  cosa  muy 
linda  y  digna  de  verse  "  (a  thing  very  beautiful  and  worthy 
to  be  seen)  ;  and  the  alcalde^  seeing  the  name  of  Palmerston 
on  our  passports,  fell  into  the  usual  raptures  over  that  great 
and  terrible  signature.  There  is  no  European  reputation 
like   his.     He  is   the  ever-wakeful   Jupiter   of  diplomacy, 

259  R 


Palmerston  Tonans 

ready  to  hurl  a  neat  and  effective  packet  of  thunder,  tied  up 
with  lightning-coloured  tape,  from  his  Olympus  in  Downing- 
street,  on  anybody  rash  enough  to  ill-use  a  British  subject, 
and  he  deserves  and  possesses  the  filial  reverence  of  all 
young  gentlemen  on  their  travels,  for  his  paternal  care  and 
aflfection. 

To  return  to  the  village  of  La  Torre.  The  authorities, 
seeing  we  had  such  magnificent  passports,  asked  if  we 
belonged  to  the  Embassy  at  Madrid.  This  was  a  severe 
blow  to  our  muleteer  disguise. 


260 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

ViLLARTA,    April  12. 

On  leaving  La  Torre,  our  road  lay  through  Cozar,  and 
then  across  a  plain  covered  vi'^ith  young  w^heat.  Towards 
noon  w^e  reached  Cubillas,  a  very  ruinous  village.  Entering 
it,  w^e  asked  our  way  to  the  posada  ;  and  as  we  went  on,  we 
heard  one  of  the  persons  we  had  asked  say  to  the  other, 
"  There  go  two  Andaluzes."  This  is  the  first  time  we  have 
been  taken  for  Spaniards  after  opening  our  mouths.  Here 
we  baited,  and  ordered  a  potato-omelette.  In  cooking  it,  the 
old  posadera^  not  having  sufficient  nerve  to  toss  the  omelette 
(a  dexterous  manoeuvre,  by  which  it  performs  a  somersault 
in  the  air  and  lights  in  the  frying-pan  the  other  way  up), 
appealed  to  her  daughter. 

This  young  lady,  who  was  one  or  the  most  beautiful 
women  we  have  seen  in  the  Peninsula,  set  down  the  tambour- 
frame,  on  which  she  was  embroidering  some  fine  linen,  rose 
with  that  majestic  and  queenly  air  which  the  supremacy  of 
loveliness  seldom  fails  to  give  a  woman  of  whatever  rank, 
and  tossed  it  quite  in  a  manner  to  give  one  an  appetite. 
She  had  a  fine  figure,  rather  tall ;  delicately  regular  features, 
large  dark-fringed  eyes,  and  a  splendid  mass  of  hair  looped 
up  in  glossy  folds  behind  her  neck. 

Both  Harry  and  myself  fell  in  love  at  first  sight.  We 
ate  our  luncheon,  and  then  I  seated  myself  beside  her  in 
the  chimney-corner. 

261 


The  Wedding  Pillow-case 

By  way  of  opening  the  conversation  with  an  interesting 
topic,  I  asked  her  when  she  was  to  be  married  ?  She, 
instead  of,  as  I  supposed  she  would,  entirely  denying  all 
thought  or  intention  of  such  an  undertaking,  simply 
answered,   "  In  August." 

"  And  so  you  are  embroidering  lilies  and  roses  on  the 
wedding-sheets  ?  "  I  continued, 

"  On  the  pillow,"  said  she. 

"  How  long  was  the  courtship  ? "  said  I. 

"  Two  years,"  said  she. 

"  And  how  old  is  the  novio  ?  "  (sweetheart),  said  I. 

"  Twenty-two,"  said  she. 

"  And  you  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Nineteen,"  said  she. 

"  It  sounds  like  a  discreet  preparation  for  happiness,  and 
I  hope  your  pillow  may  be  strewed  with  real  roses  and 
lilies,"  said  I. 

"  I  thank  your  worship,"  said  she  ;  and  so  we  mounted 
and  rode  away. 

After  crossing  a  league  or  two  more  of  the  plain,  we  were 
within  about  the  same  distance  of  a  range  of  hills,  when  the 
road  disappeared  in  the  midst  of  a  wheat-field.  Here  it 
was  very  heavy  riding,  and,  to  make  it  worse,  rain  came  on. 
Good  fortune  at  last  brought  us  to  another  road,  by  which 
we  o-ot  to  El-Christo  de  la  Valle,  whose  minaret-like  towers 
and  steeples  rise  in  a  narrow  cleft  through  the  range  of  hills. 

Riding  into  the  town  with  my  long  brown  Scotch  plaid 
hanging  nearly  to  the  ground  on  either  side,  with  the  front 
corners  knotted  over  the  Moor's  mane,  so  that  I  dare  say 
he  looked  very  like  a  hobby-horse  at  Astley's,  the  children 
of  the  place,  who  probably  had  never  seen  so  strange  a 
figure,  shouted  and  laughed  with  such  enthusiasm,  that  we 
were  glad  to  take  shelter  in  a  posada. 

262 


Malo  Pafto 

When  we  had  dried  ourselves  at  a  blazing  fire,  and  eaten 
a  salad,  we  rode  over  three  more  weary  leagues  of  plain  to 
Manzanares.  Our  beasts  got  very  tired,  and  so  did  I;  for 
the  dangling  plaid,  heavy  with  rain,  dragged  my  shoulders. 
We  must  have  ridden  rather  more  than  thirty  miles  to-day. 
I  went  to  sleep  by  the  kitchen-fire,  and  was  waked  by 
Harry,  to  eat  very  tough  chicken  for  supper. 

Next  day.  Good  Friday,  we  gave  our  ponies  a  half-holi- 
day, and  at  three  o'clock  were  just  starting  for  the  Venta 
Quesaday  intending  to  sleep  there.  You  are,  or  should  be 
aware,  that  this  is  the  venta  of  Don  Quixote.  Here  he 
arrived  on  the  evening  of  his  first  sally,  was  knighted,  and 
performed  the  vigil,  watching  his  armour  over  the  well- 
trough. 

Our  host  of  the  Posada  del  Carillo^  who  was  standing  at 
the  folding-gates  of  his  courtyard  to  see  us  off,  happened  to 
ask  where  we  intended  to  sleep,  and  we  told  him. 

"  That  is  a  bad  place  to  sleep,  Senores.     The  venta  is  a  • 
miserable  hut,  and   the   people  of  the  house  are  ??ia/o  pano 
(bad  cloth).     There  are  no  beds  there." 

"We  had  heard  it  was  a  large  venta^  Senor  huesped ;  is 
it  not  a  very  ancient  venta  F  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Senores  ;  it  is  only  a  wretched  hovel,  to  supply 
a  station  of  carablneros  with  aguardiente.  There  was  once 
a  great  and  commodious  venta  there,  but  that  was  burnt 
down  in  the  war  time." 

"  Was  that  an  old  building  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  a  cosa  de  siempre  (thing  of  always).  There 
is  nothing  left  of  it  but  the  well,  and  a  great  stone 
trough." 

As  we  had  no  intention  of  passing  the  night  watching  a 
row  of  pistols  and  daggers  on  the  edge  of  the  well-trough, 
this  information    altered    our   plans.     We  decided  now   to 

263  , 


Argamasilla  del  Alba 

turn  towards  Argamasilla  del  Alba,  where  the  first  part  of 
Don  Quixote  was  written  in  prison.  The  church-tower  of 
this  celebrated  place  soon  appeared  ;  but  we  found  the  road 
much  longer  than  it  seemed  ;  for  distances  on  the  dead  levels 
of  La  Mancha,  with  a  clear  atmosphere,  are  very  deceptive. 

It  was  half  an  hour  after  sunset  as  we  entered  Argama- 
silla. While  our  hostess  of  the  Posada  de  la  Mina  was 
preparing  our  supper,  we  inquired  if  she  had  ever  heard  of 
Miguel  Cervantes,  who  had  lived  in  the  carcel  (prison). 

"  No,  Senores.  I  think  I  have  heard  of  one  Cervantes, 
but  he  does  not  live  here  at  present." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  Don  Quixote  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  was  a  great  caballero^  who  lived  in  the 
pueblo  (township)  some  years  ago.  His  house  is  over  the 
way,  on  the  other  side  of  the  plaza^  with  the  arms  over  the 
door.  The  father  of  the  alcalde  is  the  oldest  man  in  the 
place,  and  perhaps  he  may  remember  him." 

This  was  encouraging.  The  author,  indeed,  was  for- 
gotten ;  but  the  hero  of  his  novel  had  become  a  real  man, 
whose  house  remained  to  testify  of  him  to  this  day. 

While  we  were  undressing  to  go  to  bed,  three  gentlemen 
were  announced  and  shown  in.  We  begged  them  to  be  seated, 
and  they  were  so,  on  three  chairs  at  the  end  of  the  room  ; 
and  we  sat  opposite,  at  the  feet  of  our  respective  beds,  to 
hear  what  they  might  have  to  communicate.  A  venerable 
old  man  opened  the  conference  : 

"  We  have  understood,  gentlemen,  that  you  have  come 
hither,  seeking  for  information  respecting  the  famous  Don 
Quixote,  and  we  have  come  to  give  you  such  information  as 
we  may  ;  but  perhaps  you  will  understand  me  better  ir  I 
speak  in  Latin." 

"We  have  learnt  the  Latin  at  school,  but  are  more 
accustomed  to  converse  in  the  Castilian  ;  pray  proceed." 

264 


The  Deputation 

"  I  am  the  medico  of  the  place — an  old  man,  as  you  see — 
and  what  little  I  know  has  reached  me  by  tradition.  It  is 
reported  that  Cervantes  was  paying  his  addresses  to  a  young 
lady,  niece  of  the  then  alcalde^  whose  name  was  Ouijana,  or 
Quijada,  The  alcalde^  disapproving  of  the  suit,  put  him 
into  a  dungeon  under  his  house,  and  kept  him  there  a  year. 
Once  he  escaped  and  fled,  but  he  was  taken  in  Toboso 
and  brought  back.  Cervantes  wrote  *  Don  Quixote' as  a 
satire  on  the  alcalde^  who  was  a  very  proud  man,  full  of 
chivalresque  ideas.  You  can  see  the  dungeon  to-morrow  ; 
but  you  should  also  see  the  batanes  (water-mills)  of  the 
Guadiana,  whose  {golpear)  clapping  so  terrified  Sancho 
Panza.  They  are  at  about  three  leagues'  distance.  Going 
a  little  further,  you  will  see  a  powder-mill,  and  will  be  asto- 
nished at  the  water-power.  Ah  !  in  your  country  these 
things  would  be  fructified,  but  here  we  take  advantage  of 
nothing.  My  house  is  at  your  disposition,  Senores.  We 
are  proud  to  receive,  with  all  courtesy,  strangers  who  come 
here,  doing  honour  to  the  memory  of  our  illustrious  towns- 
man. If  you  will  favour  my  house  to-morrow,  at  five 
o'clock,  on  your  return  from  the  batanes^  it  will  give  me 
great  pleasure  to  conduct  you  to  the  house  of  Quijana,  and 
the  dungeon  where  Cervantes  wrote." 

They  departed,  and  we  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning  we  were  up  early,  and  leaving  our  alforjas 
behind,  cantered  away  much  more  lightly  than  usual.  After 
about  a  league  and  a  half,  we  got  to  a  slight  dip,  which 
gradually  deepened  into  a  shallowish  valley.  Passing  a 
ruinous  Moorish  castle  on  the  left  (which,  by  the  way,  I 
wonder  Cervantes  made  no  use  of),  we  came  at  last  to  the 
mills.  These  clumsy  ancient  machines  are  composed  of  a 
couple  of  huge  wooden  mallets,  slung  in  a  timber  frame- 
work,   which,   being    pushed   out  of  the  perpendicular  by 

265 


Los  Batanes 

knobs  on  a  water-wheel,  clash  back  again  alternately  in  two 
troughs,  pounding  severely  whatever  may  be  put  in  between 
the  face  of  the  mallet  and  the  end  of  the  trough,  into 
which  water  runs.  I  believe  they  are  used  for  washing 
cloth. 

They  were  not  working  when  we  arrived,  but  the  gushing 
of  the  waters  over  the  dam  frightened  the  Moor  so  much 
that  I  had  a  struggle  to  get  him  past,  in  order  to  tether 
him  to  a  descendant  of  those  tall  trees  under  which  the 
knight  and  squire  waited  for  the  dawn  in  so  great  perturba- 
tion. During  this  struggle  arrived  three  sturdy  knaves  in 
shaggy  sheepskin  garments,  two  of  them  with  muskets  over 
their  shoulders. 

When  I  had  tethered  the  Moor,  I  discovered  I  had  lost 
a  pistol  from  the  loosened  folds  of  my  faja  ;  and  on  going 
back  to  look  for  it  where  I  had  wrestled  with  the  Moor,  it 
was  not  to  be  found.  I  asked  the  men,  but  they  had  not  seen 
it.  While  I  was  still  looking,  and  was  growing  somewhat 
disheartened — for  the  pistol  was  Harry's,  and  its  loss  would 
break  his  second  pair — the  men  began  to  move  off.  One  of 
them  was  already  fifty  yards  away.  Remembering,  in  the 
other  case,  a  day  or  two  ago,  we  had  been  sorry  not  to  have 
searched  the  muleteer,  and  Harry  being  out  of  the  way  in 
the  thicket  tying  up  the  Cid,  so  that  I  had  nobody  to  con- 
sult, I  ventured,  on  the  impulse  of  the  occasion,  to  suggest 
to  the  two  men  who  remained,  "  that  as  they  had  formed 
part  of  the  premises  when  I  lost  my  pistol,  and  were  about 
to  convey  themselves  away,  I  should  not  feel  satisfied  unless 
I  also  searched  their  pockets."  They  slightly  objected, 
saying  they  were  honourable  men,  and  had  not  seen  my 
pistol ;  however,  I  did  it,  and  found  nothing. 

I  now  ran  after  the  other  man,  and  overtook  him  about 
two  hundred  yards  further  on.     He  was  the  sturdiest  villain 

266 


Suffering  a  Recovery 

of  the  three,  and  stoutly  denying  he  knew  anything  of  my 
pistol,  told  me  to  go  back  and  look  where  I  lost  it.  I 
again  informed  him  that  at  the  time  of  my  loss  he  had 
been  a  part  of  the  premises  ;  moreover,  that  I  had  searched 
his  companions. 

"  But  you  shall  not  search  me,"  he  said,  taking  his  gun 
from  his  shoulder,  and  holding  it  ready.  I  observed  that  it 
had  a  fresh  bright  copper  cap  on  the  nipple,  so  that  it  might 
possibly  go  off;  but  I  reflected,  that  if  he  had  the  pistol, 
and  I  continued  resolute,  he  would  probably  rather  give  it 
up  than  fight,  as  I  had  my  revolver  still  in  my  faja.  So  I 
advanced  upon  him  as  he  retreated,  keeping  my  eye  upon 
him,  and  my  hand  on  my  revolver,  so  as  not  to  let  him  have 
the  first  shot,  if  possible. 

Just  at  the  moment  when  I  thought  the  combat  was  about 
to  commence,  and  was  on  the  point  of  drawing  my  weapon, 
he — I  suppose,  being  convinced  I  was  in  earnest,  and  meant 
to  see  the  adventure  through  to  the  end — fell  soft,  and  said, 
"  You  shall  have  your  pistol."  He  rather  opened  the  flap 
of  his  zamarra^^  and  I  saw  the  muzzle  of  the  pistol  peeping 
out  of  an  inside  pocket. 

As  he  still  showed  a  reluctance  to  part  with  it,  without 
much  politeness  I  at  once  grabbed  it  with  my  left  hand, 
still  keeping  my  right  on  the  revolver. 

So  I  left  him  with  a  Faya  Vmd.  con  D'los^^  and  came  back 
in  great  glee  to  tell  Harry  what  a  great  feat  of  (small) 
arms  I  had  performed.  He,  like  the  captain  in  the  ballad 
of  "Billy  Taylor,"  very  much  applauded  what  I  had 
done. 

The  day  was  hot,  and  we  began  to  make  preparations  for 
a  bath  above  the  mill-dam,  putting  the  saddles,  and  cloaks, 

'  Fur-jacket. 

-  May  your  worship  go  with  God. 
267 


Amicable   Relations 

and  clothes,  and  pistols  in  a  heap,  over  which  one  was  to 
mount  guard,  while  the  other  bathed. 

As  Harry  was  undressing,  our  friends  of  the  late  transac- 
tion came  back  with  a  large  herd  of  goats — for  they  were 
cabreros — to  go  over  the  bridge  at  the  dam.  The  principal 
thief  looked  rather  ashamed  of  himself,  and  said — I  suppose, 
by  way  of  excuse, — 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  me,  you  would  never  have  found 
your  pistol." 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  you,  I  should  never  have  had  any 
chance  of  losing  it,  that  I  know  of.  As  it  is,  I  feel  more 
obliged  to  my  good  luck  and  the  other  pistol  (patting  the 
revolver's  butt)  than  to  you." 

"  That  is  truly  a  formidable  weapon  ;  how  many  barrels 
may  it  have  ?  " 

"  Seis  tiros,  bien  cuentados  ;  salen  uno  tras  otro  ;  y 
dichoso  es  Vmd.  que  no  tuve  precision  de  matar  a  Vmd.  o 
media  docena  tales."  ^  He  also  admired  our  other  arms, 
knives,  daggers,  &c.  ;  and  pointing  to  the  pistol  he  had 
lately  had  in  his  possession,  with  a  lingering  sentiment  of 
affection,  he  said,  "  Buena  boca  tiene  aquella  "  (She  has  a 
pretty  mouth).  It  had  a  very  large  bore  for  so  small  a 
pistol,  carrying  a  ball  of  about  ten  to  the  pound.  As  he 
went  away  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  (we  having 
enjoined  them  to  betake  themselves  to  a  decent  distance 
while  we  bathed),  he  said,  in  a  contrite  manner, — 

"  Perdonad  me^  hombre  !  "  which,  being  freely  translated, 
means,  "  Pardon  me,  that's  a  good  fellow."  "  Ta  le  M 
perdonado^*  (already  I  have  pardoned  you),  I  replied,  and 
we  saw  no  more  of  him. 

'  Six  barrels,  well  counted  ;  they  go  off  one  after  another  ;  and 
happy  is  your  worship  that  I  had  not  occasion  to  slay  your  worship, 
or  half  a  dozen  such. 

268 


Guardia  Civil 

Both  of  us  having  bathed  in  the  cold  clear  pool,  Harry 
began  to  sketch  the  mill,  and  I  to  try  to  set  it  in  motion. 
It  was  very  old  and  rickety.  The  half-rotten  wheel  had 
lost  some  of  its  paddles,  and  was  so  soddened  and  heavy 
that  I  could  not  for  a  long  while,  by  stamping  and  kicking, 
get  it  round  a  foot  or  so,  to  let  the  gush  of  water  come 
upon  anything  it  could  take  hold  of ;  and  it  was  so  slippery, 
I  was  afraid  that  if  I  set  it  off  it  might  knock  me  down, 
and  dash  me  to  pieces  in  the  sluice.  At  last  I  got  it  to 
go,  and  round  went  the  splashing  wheel.  Bang — bang — 
bang  clumped  the  ponderous  mallets  alternately  in  the 
sloppy  trough.  After  about  twenty  strokes,  however,  one 
of  them  fell  out  of  the  frame  with  a  crash,  and  the  wheel 
was  locked  ;  so  I  gave  it  up,  and  began  to  sketch.  For 
this  I  had  not  patience,  it  being  a  complicated  job  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  machinery  ;  but  while  Harry  drew,  I  wrote 
in  my  journal. 

As  I  wrote,  two  men,  who  had  come  up  unperceived, 
stood  before  me  in  sheepskin  breeches  with  broad  belts,  and 
a  musket  apiece. 

"  Jdios  sefioreSy  whence  are  you  ?  " 

"From  Seville,"  we  replied. 

"  Are  you  not  foreigners  ?  " 

"  Retratistas  (portrait-painters),  at  your  service.  Would 
you  like  your  portrait  taken  at  three  reals  ?  " 

"  Not  thus,"  said  he,  pointing  to  his  sheepskin  inex- 
pressibles ;  "  but  I  have  a  wife  lives  not  half  a  league 
further  up  the  valley  ;  I  should  like  to  have  her  portrait 
taken." 

"  I  am  sorry  we  have  not  time  to  go  further,  we  must  be 
back  at  Argamasilla  by  five  ;  with  whom  may  we  have  the 
honour  to  speak  ?  " 

"  The  Guardia  Mayor." 

269 


Where  "  Don  Quixote  "  was  Written 

"  Will  your  worship  smoke  ?  "  offering  him  a  cigarillo. 

"  Thank  you  ;  we  have  tobacco." 

"  Tomad^  hombre  "  (help  yourself,  my  dear  sir),  said  I, 
with  much  cordiality.  The  fact  was,  I  wished  to  draw  a 
cloud  before  the  eyes  of  these  officials,  to  prevent  them  from 
observing  that  I  had  broken  the  rotten  old  mill,  which  they 
would  have  as  much  felt  it  incumbent  on  them  to  punish 
me  for,  as  if  it  had  been  the  soundest  institution  in  Spain. 

Before  going  away,  we  hewed  two  pieces  of  wood  out  of 
the  huge  decayed  stump  of  a  tree,  which  must  have  been 
growing  in  Don  Quixote's  time,  as  relics. 

On  our  return  to  the  posada^  we  found  the  medico  waiting 
for  us,  and  proceeded  to  the  house  of  Ouijana.  A  civil  old 
woman  brought  a  lamp,  and  we  went  down  a  flight  of  seven 
steps  into  a  long,  narrow,  round-arched  vault.  This  damp 
and  dismal  apartment  is  about  ten  feet  broad,  and  twenty- 
four  feet  long,  and  seven  feet  high  along  the  middle  of  the 
vault.  She  said,  with  as  much  certainty  as  if  she  had  been 
on  the  spot  at  the  time,  and  brought  him  his  meals,  that 
Cervantes  sat  at  this  end  (turning  to  the  left  from  the 
entrance),  and  he  was  allowed  a  lamp  to  write  by. 

We  tried  to  fancy  him  there.  A  smallish,  spare,  high- 
fcatured  man,  with  long  hair  and  a  neglected  beard,  a  7nanta 
or  two  from  his  bed  wrapped  round  his  legs,  and  thrown 
over  his  shoulders ;  he  sits,  scratching  away  by  fits  and 
starts,  in  a  quaint,  beady  hand,  illegible  to  us  moderns,  as 
we  peep  inquisitively  at  the  papers  before  him.  Now  and 
then  he  pauses,  and  looks  at  the  flame  of  the  lamp, — a 
smile  flickers  over  the  worn  features, — some  bright  idea  has 
crossed  his  mind, — he  laughs  aloud.  We  wonder  the  damp, 
dull  echo  of  his  prison-roof  does  not  startle  and  chill  his 
hilarity.  But  he  is  used  to  it,  and  takes  no  heed  of  where 
he   is.     His  fancy  is  lit, — he  is  free  now,  and  revelling  in 

270 


Quieren  Vmdes.   Comer  ? 

some  merry  scene,  which  is  word  by  word  trickling  into 
immortality  from  the  nib  of  that  worn  and  grub-nosed  quill. 
Oh  !  thou  rare  heart,  bright  focus  of  human  sympathies, 
which  in  one  book  couldst  stuff  so  much  good-fellowship, 
and  wit,  and  truth,  that  all  thy  fellow-men,  generation  after 
generation,  must  go  on  reading  it  for  ever  and  a  day  ;  while 
every  one  of  the  millions  who  read,  feels  towards  thee  as  a 
personal  friend  ! 

The  medico  afterwards  took  us  to  see  the  church,  which 
is  rather  handsome  inside,  with  large  round  columns.  It  is 
unfinished  ;  for  Miguel  Lopez,  the  architect,  died  before  it 
was  done.  He  also  insisted  on  taking  us  to  the  casino  and 
introducing  us  to  the  kUte  of  Argamasillian  society.  We 
were  ravenously  hungry,  not  having  eaten  since  our  break- 
fast at  half-past  six  in  the  morning,  and  it  was  now  seven. 
A  large  body  ot  the  casino  accompanied  us  to  our  hostel, 
and  we  had  to  go  through  the  ceremony  of  asking  them  all 
to  dine  on  one  polio  con  arro%  (chicken  and  rice),  which 
they  politely  declined,  and  retired.  All  except  one  man, 
whom  we  had  not  remarked  before,  but  who  was  evidently  a 
soldier  of  fortune,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  dine  with 
us  if  it  could  be  done.  Seeing  that  he  had  a  hungry  and 
malevolent  look,  we  only  pressed  him  very  slightly,  and  set 
to  ourselves. 

He  sat  in  our  room  and  entertained  us  with  his  conversa- 
tion in  the  French  language,  which  he  spoke  well,  but  in  a 
stiflF  and  precise  manner.  He  had  lived  at  Bayonne  some 
years,  probably  obliged  to  quit  Spain  for  some  political 
offence. 

He  had  also  learned  French  opinions,  and  probably  read 
a  little  of  Voltaire's  writings.  When  he  dragged  in  his 
unbelief  by  the  head  and  shoulders,  saying  that  Christianity 
was  "  la  religion  des  singes,"  I  replied,  "  C'est  bien  possible, 

271 


Pickwick  and  Quixote 

mais  cela  n'empeche  point  le  Christianisme  d'etre  bon  pour 
rhomme,  qui  est  le  plus  grand  des  singes."  I  also  took 
occasion  to  use  "  plus  bete  qu'un  philosophe  "  as  an  intensa- 
tive  of  common  folly. 

When  dinner  was  over,  the  ttiedico  appeared  again,  and 
the  alcalde  of  the  town,  and  others.  We  shortly  adjourned 
to  the  house  of  the  medico^  where  he  gave  us  honey  from 
Cuenca,  which  is  celebrated  for  its  bees,  and  aguardiente. 

By  the  bye,  you  know  from  Baeza,  we  were  aiming  across 
country  to  Cuenca  ;  but  finding  that  we  should  necessarily 
pass  within  one  day's  journey  of  Don  Quixote's  country,  we 
thought  it  a  pity  to  pass  it  by  :  so  instead  of  going  on  by 
Infantes,  San  Clemente,  and  Valverde,  as  our  first  plan  was, 
we  turned  back  at  Venta  Quemaday  towards  the  great  road, 
which  we  reached  at  Manzanares,  and  now  we  shall  go 
straight  on  to  Madrid,  and  leave  our  ponies  there  to  rest, 
which  they  will  want  very  much,  while  we  make  expeditions 
to  Cuenca,  Toledo,  &c.,  by  diligence. 

Ten  or  twelve  more  people  stepped  in,  one  after  another, 
at  the  medko'sy  and  when  we  went  away  accompanied  us 
back  to  the  posada^  where  we  thanked  them  all  for  their 
finura  and  polit'ica  (attention  and  urbanity),  and  bade  them 
good  night.  By  the  fuss  they  make  with  us,  and  by  our 
having  nothing  to  pay  for  seeing  the  dungeon,  we  argue 
that  this  pilgrimage  is  not  very  commonly  made. 

Next  morning,  at  eight,  we  started  to  ride  to  the  Venta 
Quesada.  It  was  a  fine  day,  and  we  were  in  good  spirits, 
talking  over  our  adventures  of  the  day  before.  There  had 
been  a  grumbling  old  woman  at  the  posada^  who  reminded 
us  of  Mrs.  Gummidge  in  "  David  Copperfield  "  ;  and  it  was 
a  natural  transition  from  the  Cervantes  of  the  locality,  to  our 
own  Cervantes  of  the  present  day. 

I  have  always  looked  upon  Pickwick  (which  will  live  as 

272 


Cervantes  and  Dickens 

Dickens's  great  work)  as  a  free  translation  of  Don  Quixote 
into  the  manners  of  modern  England.  Mr.  Pickwick,  in 
the  simple  enthusiasm  of  his  heart,  resolves  to  be  the 
redresser  of  grievances.  Sam  Weller,  the  shrewd  and 
humorous  valet,  is  the  natural  Sancho  of  British  low  life  ; 
always  ready,  like  his  prototype,  with  a  quaint  and  homely 
common-sense  view,  to  contrast  with  the  flighty  visions  of 
his  master.  Jingle  is  Gines  de  Pasamonte,  Wardle  the 
hospitable  sylvan  duke.  I  remember  once  asking  Lord 
Jeffrey  about  this  likeness  between  Pickwick  and  Quixote, 
and  he  said  it  had  not  struck  him  before,  but  he  thought 
there  was  some  truth  in  it. 

Cervantes  was  older  when  he  wrote  Don  Quixote,  and 
had  seen  a  great  deal  more  of  the  world.  If  Dickens  had 
lost  his  arm  at  Lepanto — been  a  captive  at  Algiers — and 
seen  twenty  years  of  the  very  miscellaneous  life  of  a  soldier- 
ing poet  in  those  romantic  days,  I  see  no  reason  to  think 
he  might  not  have  written  as  good  a  book  as  Don  Quixote. 
As  it  is,  the  deficiencies  of  the  models  he  worked  from  are 
reflected  in  his  work.  But  the  singular  and  surpassing 
genius  he  displayed,  at  once  gave  him  a  blaze  of  popularity, 
too  rapid  for  safety.  Instead  of  going  on  improving  his 
taste,  and  struggling  earnestly  to  produce  some  perfect 
work,  which  should  live  for  ever,  and  be  a  wonder  to  coming 
times  (as  he  might  have  done,  if  he  had  not  succeeded  so 
rapidly),  he  fell  to  imitating  himself  profusely  ;  as  if  he 
meant  to  out-Herod  Herod,  or,  to  use  a  more  simple 
expression,  play  the  Dickens  with  himself.  And  he  would 
have  done  it  before  this,  had  not  his  exquisite  genius 
struggled  with  a  much  less  exquisite  taste  ;  for  his  mind 
cannot  help  yielding  gems,  however  little  careful  he  is  to 
set   them  as  they  deserve. 

That  is  why  the  young  men  of  the  present  day  prefer 

273 


Dickeray  and  Thackens 

Thackeray  to  Dickens.  Thackeray  has  seen  more  of  the 
world  they  live  in.  Besides,  he  has  more  power  of  putting 
a  story  cleverly  together  ;  which,  I  believe,  critics  (who  are 
usually  men  that  have  the  education  of  authors,  without 
sufficient  genius  to  write  good  books,  or  rashness  to  write 
bad)  call  the  divine  creative  power.  I  take  this  to  be 
merely  imagination  corrected  by  knowledge  of  the  world. 
If  there  is  less  of  the  high  poetical  element  in  Thackeray's 
writing,  he  has  the  power  of  framing  a  much  more  con- 
sistent and  credible  body  of  fiction.  Dickens  imagines,  as 
it  were,  through  a  microscope,  and  patches  the  minutely- 
painted  pictures  together  higgledy-piggledy.  Thackeray 
takes  the  whole  of  his  history  into  his  telescopic  field.  In 
fact,  he  imagines  in  larger  pieces,  or  at  any  rate  has 
the  art  to  make  his  work  hang  together  by  a  subtile 
tissue  of  unconscious  evidence ;  whereas  the  manage- 
ment of  Dickens's  stories  is  often  full  of  unconscious 
inconsistencies. 

We  now  began  to  consider  what  we  should  do  on  our 
visit  to  the  celebrated  venta.  It  was  proposed  and  seconded 
that  we  should  revive,  in  the  person  of  the  present  ventero^ 
the  right,  as  by  tenure,  of  investing  fit  and  proper  persons 
with  the  order  of  knighthood.  If  he  was  a  man  of  humour, 
like  the  real  ventero  in  Don  Quixote's  time,  he  would  easily 
enter  into  the  joke.  But  what  should  we  call  the  order  ? 
As  there  was  nothing  remaining  of  the  old  premises  but  the 
well,  it  was  suggested  we  should  be  called  "  Cahalleros  de  la 
Orden  del  Pozo''  (Knights  of  the  Order  of  the  Well).  He 
should  slap  our  shoulders  with  his  navaja  (clasp-knife),  for 
want  of  a  better  sword,  and  sprinkle  us  with  a  little  water 
from  the  well.  We  would  previously  watch  our  pistols  and 
daggers  for  the  space  of  time  in  which  we  could  smoke  a 
cigarillo^  and  it  should  be  counted  a  vigil. 

274 


Military  Opposition 

Engaged  in  such  discourse,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  us 
that  the  road  had  disappeared  in  the  midst  of  a  rough  field, 
and  we  had  a  considerable  amount  of  trouble  and  anxiety 
among  the  trackless  broken  ground  of  the  plain  before  we 
could  discover  the  Venta  Quesada. 

In  the  distance,  curiously  enough,  it  did  look  like  a  castle, 
as  Don  Ouixote  took  it  to  be.  There  were  two  embattled 
turrets,  which  had  been  built  in  the  war  time,  when  it  had 
been  made  a  military  station.  We  entered  the  courtyard 
of  this  building,  supposing  it  to  be  the  venta^  but  the  soldiers 
pointed  us  through  a  doorway  further  on.  As  we  were  going 
through,  a  soldier  started  up  and  cried — 

"  Hollo  !  come  back  !  where  are  your  passports  ? " 

"  Who  are  you,"  said  I,  "  that  have  so  little  idea  how 
you  should  address  gentlemen  of  distinction  ?  After  we  have 
attended  to  our  beasts  we  will  attend  to  you." 

"  Gentlemen  of  distinction,  indeed  !  you  look  more  like 
Andalusian  contrabandistas.     Come  here,  sirs  !  " 

"Come  to  us,  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  you  varlet  or 
an  inconsequent  mi/itar!"  Here  we  went  into  the  wretched 
little  shed  of  a  stable,  and  two  soldiers  followed  us.  After 
we  had  set  barley  before  our  ponies,  we  said,  "  Now,  if  you 
will  ask  civilly  to  see  our  papers,  we  will  show  you  them, 
though  it  is  exceedingly  probable  you  cannot  read."  On 
seeing  their  great  size,  and  the  complication  of  signatures 
and  stamps  attached  to  our  passports,  they  became  civiller, 
and  began  to  exculpate  themselves  ;  a  polite  corporal  came 
up  and  tried  to  smooth  down  the  contention.  But  our 
opponents,  finding  our  papers  were  all  right,  now  hit  on  a 
new  point  of  attack  in  our  pistols.  We  showed  our  license 
to  carry  arms.  "Yes,"  said  they,  "an  escopet  (musket), 
but  these  pistols  are  forbidden  weapons,  and  require  a  special 
license." 

275  s 


A   "  Troughy  " 


"  Nothing  is  forbidden  to  Englishmen,"  I  remarked,  in  a 
confident  manner,  as  if  I  was  delivering  a  well-known  axiom  ; 
"  besides,  it  is  specified  in  the  papers  that  we  are  personas  de 
toda  confianza  "  (persons  of  all  confidence).  This  clenched 
our  defence.  So  we  went  and  ate  a  very  dirty  potato- 
omelette.  Afterwards  we  found  the  well  :  but  it  did  not 
come  up  to  our  expectations,  having  been  new-plastered. 
However,  there  was  the  old  trough,  cracked  through  the 
middle.  I  chipped  a  little  bit  off  for  a  relic,  or  rather  a 
trophy.  Harry  sketched  the  well.  I  sat  before  the  venta 
door  on  a  stool,  writing  at  my  journal,  while  the  ventero^  a 
bad-looking  young  man,  with  round  idiotic  eyes,  played  at 
cards  with  his  wife,  who  was  older  and  still  more  disagree- 
able in  appearance  than  himself. 

We  thought  no  more  about  the  Orden  del  Pozo ;  but  rode 
away  as  soon  as  the  ponies  had  eaten  their  corn.  Near  the 
point  where  we  had  lately  emerged  upon  the  camino  real^ 
there  was  a  great  new  ventOy  outwardly  fair  to  view  ;  but 
when  we  came  to  inquire  for  beds,  it  proved  to  be  un- 
finished, and  full  of  bricks  and  mortar  of  emptiness.  The 
people  here  had  seen  us  go  by  before,  and  now  asked  what 
we  had  been  to  see  at  the  Venta  Quesada.  We  told  them 
it  was  because  the  famous  Don  Quixote  had  been  there. 
"  Ah,"  said  the  landlord,  "  I  myself  have  the  fourth  volume 
of  his  history,  and  know  all  about  the  beautiful  Dulcinea  del 
Toboso." 

A  little  after  sun-down  we  reached  Villarta.  Lent  ended 
yesterday,  I  believe  ;  and  we  certainly  saw  more  meat  con- 
sumed at  this  venta  than  we  have  yet  seen  on  our  way 
altogether.  We  got  some  excellent  fried  ham,  the  first 
unreesty  sample  we  have  met  with  since  Seville,  except,  of 
course,  in  the  great  towns. 

As  we  sat  in  our  apartment,  before  going  to  bed,  a  con- 

276 


A  Future  State 

versation  arose,  I  don't  remember  out  of  what,  concerning  a 
future  state,  and  whether  it  would  be  final  or  not.  Harry 
thought  it  must :  otherwise  it  would  be  most  unsatisfactory, 
after  being  buffeted  through  this  world  with  an  expectation 
of  final  peace  in  the  next,  to  find  there  was  yet  a  struggle 
and  an  uncertainty  beyond  the  grave. 

"  Yes,  but  we  may  wake  and  remember  nothing  of  this 
state  in  the  next,  having  in  the  baby  germ  of  our  nature  the 
seeds  of  all  the  improvement  our  life  in  this  world  has. 
wrought  in  us  :  and  go  to  work  fresh  again,  with  as  much 
spirit  and  cheerfulness  as  a  man  who  went  to  sleep 
weary  and  dawled  over-night,  sets  to  his  task  again  next 
morning." 

"  That  is  more  unsatisfactory  still  ;  for  then  we  should 
forget  all  those  friendships,  and  ties  of  affection  and  kindred, 
which  alone  make  life  tolerable." 

"  But  you  must  remember  that  all  these  ties  and  relations 
have  been  formed  in  this  planet  ;  and  similar,  nay  better, 
may  be  formed  in  the  next.  We  perhaps  may  meet  the  same 
souls  again,  and  love  them,  though  we  do  not  remember 
them  ;  nor  can  we  be  sure  that  we  are  not  here  drawn 
towards  the  friends  of  some  state  prior  to  this,  by  a 
previous  though  unremembered  sympathy.  Life  as  it  is,  is 
well  worth  having  ;  there  is  much  more  pleasure  than  pain 
in  it." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  :  doubt  makes  us  miserable." 

"It  don't  make  me  miserable.  I  feel  quite  satisfied  that 
I  am  in  the  hands  of  All- Wisdom,  and  AU-Love,  and  All- 
Power  ;  and  I  argue  from  past  experience  that  I  shall  be 
treated  better  than  I  deserve.  I  am  happy  now,  and  thankful 
for  my  life.  I  am  neither  hungry,  nor  thirsty,  nor  cold.  I  am 
for  the  present  interested  with  this  discussion.  If  I  want 
to  smoke,  I  can  light  my  pipe  ;  and  if  I  grow  sleepy,  I  can  go 

277 


Happiness  in  Progress 

to  bed  ;  and  these  are  the  only  pressing  wants  likely  to  occur 
I  am  prepared  to  go  through  fifty  thousand  worlds,  and  with 
forty-nine  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  deaths 
between,  so  long  as  each  (whether  I  can  remember  or  com- 
pare them  or  not)  be  intrinsically  better  than  the  one  before, 
and  enjoyment  continue  to  bear  the  same  proportion  to 
anxiety.  As  long  as  we  can  imagine  any  perfection  to  which 
we  have  not  attained,  we  shall  not  rest  completely  satisfied. 
Perfect  happiness,  like  all  other  perfection,  can  belong  only 
to  the  Deity.  It  is  only  in  the  gradual  approach  and 
advancement  towards  this  state,  that  the  happiness  of  inferior 
natures  can  consist.  We  are  made  after  God's  own  image, 
which  probably  means,  that  the  nature  of  man  contains  in 
vague  embryo,  and  much  clogged  besides  with  the  material 
engine  through  which  it  now  has  to  operate,  a  germ  of  all 
those  attributes  which,  in  their  fulness  and  splendour  of  per- 
fection, constitute  the  Being  who  created  him.  It  is  there- 
fore impossible  to  over-estimate  the  height  of  glory  to  which 
man  is  capable  of  growing.  But  we  see  here  that  his  pro- 
gress is  slow,  and  the  presumption  is,  there  will  be  many,  in 
fact  endless  states,  '  because,'  as  Tennyson  says  in  that 
sublime  speculation  (the  Two  Voices) — *  because  the  scale 
is  infinite.'  So  we  may  go  on,  'moving  up  from  high  to 
higher,'  till  '  we  lose  ourselves  in  light.' " 

"  Well,  but  what  does  your  theory  make  of  those  who  go 
the  wrong  way  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,  they  move  down  from  low  to  lower,  till 
they  lose  themselves  in  darkness.  As  the  first  become 
*  angels  and  ministers  of  grace,'  the  others  become  demons 
and  ministers  of  disgrace  ;  and  as  the  terminus  of  the  one 
is  perfection,  that  of  the  other  is  annihilation." 


278 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

Madrid,  April  i6. 
Here  we  are,  safely  arrived  in  Madrid.  Our  way  from 
Villarta  hither  has  not  been  fruitful  in  adventures,  and  the 
scenery  could  not  easily  have  been  more  dreary  and  deso- 
late. The  only  variation  of  the  vast  and  wearisome  plain 
consists  of  occasional  broad,  flat  valleys,  which  look  as  if 
the  surface,  undermined  by  some  volcanic  action  below,  had 
given  way,  and  gone  down  like  the  trap-door  of  a  stage, 
leaving  slovenly,  crumbling,  precipitous  edges,  some  four  or 
five  hundred  feet  deep  on  either  side. 

Often  the  towns  are  hidden  in  these  great  gaps,  so  that 
there  is  no  sign  of  any  human  habitation  within  the  blank 
horizon. 

We  entered  this  sort  of  country  at  Puerto  Lapiche,  where 
we  breakfasted  after  leaving  Villarta.  Here,  on  either  side 
of  the  hills  we  were  deserting,  stood  a  crowd  of  Don  Quixote's 
windmills.  Here  he  turned  off  the  camino  real  to  do  penance 
at  the  Pena  pobre.  The  landlord  knew  nothing  about  this  last 
place,  but  had  a  vague  idea  that  Don  Quixote  had  been  in 
the  place,  and  qui'z.a  (perhaps)  the  history  had  been  written 
here. 

I  don't  know  whether  it  was  Don  Quixote's  windmills 
which  gave  a  romantic  turn  to  our  discourse,  but  it  ran 
upon  the  strange  and  startling  occurrences  which  do,  from 
time  to  time,  chequer  the  usually  prosy  pages  of  real  life. 

279 


Cheops's   Billets-doux 

"  But  is  real  life  really  prosy  ?  Or  does  it  merely  appear 
so,  because  men  and  women  bury  all  their  life's  truly  stirring 
incident,  of  highest  rapture  and  of  deepest  anguish,  in  the 
silent  archives  of  the  soul ;  and  uttering  only  what  is  com- 
mon-place, make  the  faint  echoes  of  written  romance  seem 
caricature  ? — or  an  obsolete  picture  of  how  men  thought  and 
felt  in  ruder  and  more  serious  times  ?  " 

"Man  is  still  the  same.  There  were  no  black-letter 
editions  of  the  human  heart,  nor  are  its  feelings  now  a  bit 
more  gilt-edged  or  satin-wove  than  wb  .n  Cheops  wrote  his 
hieroglyphic  billets-doux  on  papyrus." 

"  The  world  has  never  changed,  nor  ever  will.  The  only 
difference  is,  that  we  see  too  much  of  what  is  before  our 
eyes  ;  and  familiarity  breeds  contempt.  Gigantic  qualities 
alone  can  pierce  the  haze  of  antiquity,  and  thence  we  con- 
clude that  all  were  then  modelled  on  the  proportions  of  the 
few  great  men  we  know.  And  those,  too — how  little  we 
know  them.  If  we  were  to  summon  up  Abelard's  cook- 
maid,  and  ask  how  her  master  looked  on  that  Friday  after- 
noon when  he  had  just  received  Eloisa's  most  touching 
letter,  describing  how,  'as  time  creeps  on,  all  human  affec- 
tions,' &c. — what  account  of  Abelard  would  his  cook-maid 
give?  She  would  probably  describe  him  as  a  red-nosed 
testy  old  fellow  of  about  fifty-eight,  in  a  greasy  old  soutane  ; 
and  that,  on  the  particular  occasion  above  mentioned,  he 
was  reprimanding  her  severely  for  allowing  the  bishop  to 
set  his  foot  in  a  dish  of  parsnips  dressed  with  cream." 

"To  be  sure.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  I  see  no  reason 
to  doubt  that  there  are  Pyramuses  and  Thisbes  who  peep 
at  one  another  through  opera-glasses  instead  of  holes  in  the 
wall ;  and  Romeos  and  Juliets  who  meet  (whether  at  Devon- 
shire House  or  the  Whittington  Club  balls),  and  love  just 
as  suddenly,  desperately,  and  fatally." 

280 


what  were  our  Ancestors  About  ? 

"Talking  about  Romeo  and  Juliet,  do  you  know,  when  I 
was  at  Warsaw,  or  Cracow,  or  somewhere,  after  the  siege  of 
Vienna,  I  saw  the  mummy  of  a  beautiful  princess  who  had 
died  on  her  wedding-day  ;  and  that  was  all  that  was  known 
about  her ;  and  what  an  open  field  for  speculation  on  possible 
loves,  disgusts,  jealousies,  poisonings,  heart-breakings,  &c., 
does  it  leave  to  the  imagination  !  She  had  been  well  dried 
up,  and  there  was  the  remnant  of  great  beauty  still  trace- 
able in  the  wizened  features.  There  she  lay  in  her  glass 
case  ;  a  real  young  lady  of  the  dark  ages  in  her  wedding- 
dress." 

"And  yet,  after  all,  it  is  possible  she  died  of  angina 
pectoris ;  and  neither  poisoned  herself  to  escape  the  arms  of 
a  detested  bridegroom,  nor  was  poisoned  by  a  black-hearted 
rival  beauty,  nor  broke  her  heart  for  another  young  man. 
But  what  times  those  middle-ages  must  have  been,  since,  in 
spite  of  theories,  one  cannot  help  believing  them  to  have 
been  full  of  romance  and  adventure.  Think  of  the  Crusades; 
though,  perhaps,  our  wars  in  India  and  at  the  Cape  will 
seem  as  romantic  to  readers  a  thousand  years  to  come. 
But  then,  those  Norman  skippers,  making  a  run  of  contra- 
band lances  upon  the  coast  of  a  kingdom,  and  cutting  a 
whole  province  out  of  its  side  1  In  those  days  dynasties 
were  founded  as  easily  as  you  now  may  get  a  peerage.  What 
were  our  ancestors  about,  when  the  bastard  duke  and  the 
Guiscards  were  coolly  taking  possession  of  England  and 
Naples  ?  Why  did  they  stand  with  their  hands  in  their 
pockets,  and  not  take  a  kingdom  and  leave  it  to  us  ?  But 
if  they  had,  we  should  only  have  been  princes  of  the  blood, 
for  our  elder  brothers  would  have  sacked  the  kingdom. 
And  I  should  think  it  would  be  very  indifferent  fun  being  a 
prince  of  the  blood  ; — all  the  restraint  of  greatness,  with 
none  of  the  power.'* 

281 


New  Dynasties 

"  But  I  don't  see  why  we  should  want  to  be  princes  of 
the  blood,  and  the  effete  descendants  of  some  great  man. 
Dynasties  have  not  ceased  to  be  formed.  Napoleon  was  a 
much  greater  man  than  Alexander  the  Great ;  and  Berna- 
dotte  will  leave  a  dynasty  as  long  as  the  Ptolemies.  Besides, 
Louis  Buonaparte  iscoming  up,  and  will  play  young  Octavius 
to  his  uncle's  Cassar." 

"  I  hope  he  will  succeed  ;  not  because  I  know  or  care 
anything  about  his  politics,  but  because  I  should  like  to  see 
a  real  new  dynasty  formed,  just  to  show  people  that  they 
remain  precisely  in  the  same  state  as  when  Saul  was  chosen 
from  the  family  of  Kish  to  rule  over  Israel.  Once,  when  I 
was  wandering  through  the  royal  crypts  of  Saint  Denis, 
and  came  to  the  massive  portals  (armed  with  bars  of  bronze 
and  complicated  locks  and  bolts),  where  Napoleon  had  pre- 
pared himself  a  last  resting-place,  I  felt  there  was  a  want 
of  completeness  in  his  not  being  there,  and  I  felt  sorry.  I 
have  no  sympathy  with  the  man  ;  but  I  like  the  incident  of 
an  emperor  of  half  Europe  being  born  in  a  country  town  or 
a  little  island,  and  turning  the  whole  world  topsy-turvy.  I 
feel  no  disloyal  indifference  towards  our  excellent  Queen 
Victoria — whom,  with  all  her  progeny,  Heaven  preserve  ! — 
but  if  it  could  have  happened  without  disadvantage  to  her, 
and  the  dear  little  princes  and  princesses,  I  wish  Richard 
Cromwell  had  been  a  competent  man,  and  reigned  over 
England ;  and  that  the  great  Oliver  had  died  with  the  crown 
on  the  top  of  his  bedstead.  A  change  is  a  good  thing  now 
and  then.  He  had  very  near  as  good  a  right  to  be  king  as 
Henry  Tudor  before  he  married  the  heiress  of  York.  But 
come  ;  the  ferment  of  Napoleon's  times  has  not  settled 
down  yet,  and  we  may  have  a  chance  before  we  die. 
When  the  revolution  comes,  whoever,  like  Themistocles, 
can   always  of  a  sudden  say  what  is  most  fit  to  be  said, 

282 


Transcendental  Toryism 

and  do  what  is  most  fit  to  be  done,  will  be  the  Cromwell 
of  his  day. 

"  '  Shake  but  a  scuttlef  ul 
Of  gravel,  the  big  pebbles  come  atop. 
When  times  are  troublous,  great  men,  jostled  forth, 
Stand  in  the  front  of  action.     When  the  mind 
Is  moved,  great  qualities,  before  unknown. 
Rise  on  emergency.     For,  while  kind  Heaven 
Is  liberal  of  much-neglected  means, 
Man  neither  knows  his  weakness  nor  his  strength, 
Till  time  and  trial  shape  his  destiny.' " 

"  You  are  getting  dreadfully  republican,  if  not  revolu- 
tionary, all  of  a  sudden.      I  thought  you  were  a  Tory." 

"  I  am,  as  yet,  a  dreamer,  and  therefore  hold  all  politics 
and  creeds  of  which  I  have  a  sufficient  smattering  to  form 
an  element  in  the  hodge-podge  of  my  opinions.  A  man 
does  not  form  his  opinions  really  till  he  begins  to  act.  The 
weight  of  responsibility  on  the  shoulders  is  like  an  hydraulic 
press  :  it  leaves  no  room  for  froth.  But  I  am  not  sure  that 
the  most  transcendental  Toryism  would  not  be  a  belief  such 
as  I  profess  at  present.  Mind  you,  for  this  half  hour  only. 
The  world  is  nothing  but  a  great  machine  for  milling  the 
souls  of  men.  It  was  just  as  fit  for  the  purpose  in  Adam's 
time  as  now.  But  physical  and  intellectual  effort  being  a 
necessary  part  of  his  probation,  physical  truths  of  great 
commercial  value  and  convenience  are  scattered  liberally  in 
his  way.  However  these  be,  one  by  one,  grubbed  out  by 
the  snout  of  science  ;  however  systems  of  government  shift, 
and  split,  and  fall  away  ;  the  world  remains  the  same  in  its 
moral  relation  to  the  soul  of  man  ;  nor  does  it  alter,  as  far 
as  I  can  see,  in  its  effectual  capacity  of  training  our  spiritual 
nature.  What  difference  does  it  make  to  my  soul  whether 
I  dig  or  plough,  or  whether  I  travel  by  mule  or  locomotive 

283 


Tembleque  and  Ocana 

engine  ?  I  believe  that  in  different  ways,  varying  by  pro- 
gression, the  same  passions  and  temptations  come  with  the 
same  force  to  generation  after  generation,  from  the  apple 
and  twig  of  Adam  to  the  sceptre  and  ball  of  Napoleon.  Man, 
with  all  his  boasted  advancement,  gets  no  further.  He  is 
working  in  a  spacious  house  of  correction,  with  science  for 
his  treadmill-wheel.  Or  he  is  picking  the  arts,  instead  of 
oakum,  with  a  vague  yearning  for  some  dimly-conceived 
ideal  of  beauty.  Alas,  if  we  come  out  of  our  house  of  cor- 
rection worse  than  we  went  in  ! " 

"  Yes  ;  but,  my  dear  sir,  you  must  allow  that  man  is  in  a 
better  state  since  the  spread  of  Christianity." 

"  Certainly  ;  but  that  is  the  free  gift  of  God,  and  not  any 
merit  of  man's  own.  I  argue  that  the  only  real  advantage 
which  man  gets  from  his  boasted  march  of  intellect  is 
physical  convenience  and  intellectual  activity — a  condition, 
not  a  result.  I  deny  any  strictly  essential  good  arising  directly 
from  the  results  of  his  labour.  They  will  all  probably  perish 
with  the  world,  when  a  higher  range  of  truth  opens  to  our 
eyes,  and  be  resolved  into  a  mere  supplementary  nothing  to 
the  original  nothingness  out  of  which  the  world  was  made." 

We  rode  down  into  Tembleque — a  cold-looking,  miserable 
place  ;  supped  on  mutton-chops  (evidently  off  some  tough 
old  ram),  fried  potatoes,  and  salad.  There  was  a  large 
party  supping  in  the  kitchen,  and  after  a  little  conversation, 
one  of  the  company  asked  us  if  we  were  Andalusians.  An 
older  man  answered  for  us,  "The  dress  is  the  dress  of  the 
Andaluzes,  but  the  tongue  not." 

Next  day  we  passed  Ocana.  Our  ponies  were  weak  on 
their  legs,  and  cut  their  fetlocks  a  good  deal.  I  filed  off  the 
heads  of  some  obnoxious  nails,  but  it  did  little  good.  I  then 
tied  up  the  wounded  fetlock  in  a  silk  handkerchief,  so  that  the 
Moor  could  do  it  no  more  harm  for  the  present ;  but  he  was 

284 


Aranjuez 


already  rather  lame.  At  Ocana  we  left  the  main  road  for  a 
short  cut  which  came  out  at  Montivola,  a  village  chiefly 
formed  of  troglodyte  habitations,  burrowed  out  of  the  loamy 
hill ;  and  from  the  flats  above  the  village,  we  saw  a  fine 
range  of  snow  mountains,  which  must  be  beyond  Madrid. 

Here  we  descended  to  a  somewhat  lower  level.  Towards 
dusk  we  came  in  sight  of  water,  a  large  sheet.  At  first  we 
took  it  for  the  Tagus,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  a  lake,  where 
innumerable  frogs  were  croaking  vociferously.  I  fired  my 
revolver  in  among  them,  and  they  stopped  a  moment,  and 
then  began  louder  than  ever,  as  if  the  report  had  given  them 
a  fresh  topic  of  conversation.  After  a  while  we  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Tagus. 

Aranjuez  seemed  a  pretty  place,  full  ot  trees  and  gardens, 
quite  a  paradise  after  the  dreary  country  through  which  we 
had  just  travelled  ;  but  unluckily  it  was  very  nearly  dark 
when  we  got  there.  The  wozo,  with  whom  I  had  carried  on 
a  considerable  conversation  while  she  was  arranging  the 
beds,  ended  by  asking  me  whether  I  was  an  Andaluz.  It 
appears  our  disguise  is  beginning  to  take  effect.  The  Cas- 
tilians  have  a  great  contempt  for  the  orthoepy  of  their 
southern  neighbours,  so  that  it  is  but  a  slight  compliment 
to  our  Spanish  after  all. 

Next  morning  we  passed  out  of  Aranjuez.  It  is  a  pictu- 
resque, gay  tea-garden-looking  town  ;  full  of  brick  and  stucco 
colonnades  and  gingerbread  triumphal  arches,  and  avenues 
of  really  fine  trees,  and  glittering  fountains,  and  bridges  and 
waterfalls,  and  flowers  and  statues  and  columns  ;  altogether 
making  a  brilliant  though  somewhat  French  and  artificial 
ensemble.  The  palace  has  a  faint  resemblance  to  the 
Tuileries.  I  dare  say  it  is  a  very  pleasant  place  for  the 
Court  to  lounge  through  the  hot  summer  months. 

Along  the  last  seventy  or  eighty  miles  of  road,  we  have 

285 


First  View  of  Madrid 

seen,  every  mile  or  so,  a  party  of  camineros^  with  muskets 
pitched  and  implements  to  mend  the  way.  All,  without 
one  exception,  have  been  either  eating,  drinking,  smoking, 
or  sleeping  :  to-day,  however,  we  actually  saw  one  of  them 
tightening  his  belt,  as  if  he  really  was  going  to  work.  We 
wondered  whether  Dean  Swift  had  ever  seen  Spain — Laputa 
has  a  Spanish  sound.  Baited  at  Val  de  Moro.  Soon  after 
leaving  this  place  we  topped  a  long  rise,  and  saw  Madrid 
about  eight  or  nine  miles  before  us. 

It  was  a  better-looking  place  than  we  had  imagined — a 
good,  compact  mass  of  towers  and  steeples,  and  pinnacles 
crowning  the  brow  of  a  hill.  We  forded  the  Manzanares, 
which  was  broad  and  deepish  for  us  on  our  little  ponies.  It 
was  now  dusk,  and  the  soldier  at  the  octroi  (excise-office) 
stopped  us  as  suspicious-looking  countrymen,  likely  to  be 
smugglers. 

"  Whom  have  we  here  ?  "  cried  he. 

"  Cahalleros  Ingleses  en  viage"  I  replied  glibly  ;  and  it 
appeared  we  so  little  came  up  to  his  ideas  of  English  gen- 
tlemen on  their  travels,  that  he  preferred  to  consider  it  as 
an  excellent  joke. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Tou  English  gentlemen  !  You  are  contra- 
bandistas  from  Malaga,  more  likely ;  and  I'll  be  bound 
you  have  some  excellent  bottles  in  your  alforjas !  "  Here 
he  began  feeling  and  ferreting  in  them.  "  Ha  !  the 
bottom  is  wet  ;  there  is  a  broken  bottle  in  them  some- 
where." 

"  Caramba  !  Senor  doganero ;  I  should  have  thought  you 
knew  the  water  of  Manzanares  from  the  wine  of  Malaga. 
We  have  ridden  through  the  river,  and  have  no  contraband 
drinks  about  us.  It  is  a  verdad  catolica  (Catholic  truth) 
that  we  are  English  gentlemen,  and  that  the  sooner  you  can 
satisfy  yourself  that  these  are  only  dirty  shirts  and^stockings 

286 


Puerta  del   Sol 

in  our  saddle-bags,  the  sooner  we  shall  sup,  si  Dios  quiere  " 
(please  God).  As  he  found  nothing  in  the  bottle  line,  he 
let  us  go.  What  we  really  were  afraid  he  might  find,  was 
our  pistols ;  for  we  had  heard  that  the  law  against  wearing 
arms  is  much  more  stringently  enforced  in  the  capital  than 
the  provinces. 

The  Fonda  de  la  Fiscaina^  to  which  we  had  been  recom- 
mended by  our  hostess  at  Granada,  is  an  apartment  in  the 
great  Casa  del  Maragato,  near  the  Puerta  del  Sol,  the 
centre  of  Madrid.  Thither  we  threaded  our  way  by  inquiry 
among  real  metropolitan  crowded  streets.  The  Puerta  del 
Sol  is  not  a  gate,  though  I  suppose  it  once  was,  but  a  not 
very  remarkable  butt-end  of  buildings,  situated  between  the 
Calle  de  Alcala  and  the  Carrera  San  Hieronimo,  which 
streets  here  form  a  fork,  of  which  the  Calle  Mayor  (still 
larger  than  either)  is  the  handle.  This  butt-end  is  princi- 
pally distinguished  in  the  darker  hours  by  an  illuminated 
clock-face — the  Horse-Guards  of  Madrid. 

Opposite  the  lofty-arched  portals  of  the  Casa  del  Maragato, 
while  we  were  debating  how  to  attack  so  huge  an  edifice, 
which  bore  no  signs  of  containing  any  fonda^  and  looked 
more  like  some  great  official  building,  we  were  addressed  in 
English  : — 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir,  I  suppose  you  will  be  the  gentlemen 
from  Granada  ;  allow  me  to  take  your  horses.  Pedro,  carry 
these  cahalleros'  alforjas  up  into  the  fonda." 

"  That's  all  very  fine  ;  but  where  are  you  going  to  take 
our  ponies  to,  and  who  are  you  ? " 

"  I'm  the  English  interpreter  to  the  establishment. 
Mrs.  Vasquez  wrote  about  you  coming.  I'll  just  take  the 
horses  round  to  Lamb's  livery-stables."  We  felt  a  certain 
doubt  whether  we  should  ever  see  the  Moor  and  Cid  again, 
and  a  twitch  of  conscience,  for  fear,  if  we  did  not  give  them 

287 


The   British   Lion  and  Lamb 

their  barley,  and  unlace  their  cinchas^^  they  might  be  badly 
looked  after  by  less  affectionate  and  accustomed  hands. 
But  we  were  tired  and  hungry,  and  the  stable  was  reported 
to  be  a  long  way  off,  to  which  we  objected,  and  threatened 
to  go  to  a  posada  ;  but  they  told  us  there  were  no  posadas 
with  stables  attached  to  them,  except  in  the  suburbs  ;  so 
we  went  in  under  the  lofty  arch,  and  up  an  interminable 
flight  of  stairs.  When  we  got  there,  we  found  the  house 
was  full.  Some  other  gentlemen  had  arrived  from  Granada, 
who  had  been  mistaken  for  us,  and  the  rooms  kept  for  us 
had  been  filled  ;  but  a  story  higher,  a  widow  kept  lodgings, 
and  we  might  be  accommodated,  if  we  would.  Here,  at  the 
very  top  of  the  house,  we  found  a  very  comfortable  apart- 
ment. We  washed  and  supped,  and  sallied  forth  upon  the 
crowded  lamplight ;  had  iced  orchata  (almond  milk)  at  the 
Cafe  Suizo,  in  the  Calle  de  Alcala.  Since  then,  I  have  been 
writing,  and  it  is  time  now  to  go  to  bed  ;  the  clock  in  the 
Puerta  del  Sol  has  just  struck  twelve. 

This  morning,  after  breakfast,  we  were  waited  upon  by  a 
shabby,  little,  silly,  chattering  pretendiente^  or  place-hunter. 
He  had  heard  of  us  from  his  friends  in  Granada,  and  came 
to  ofFer  his  services  to  be  generally  useful.  I  went  with  the 
English  interpreter  to  the  livery-stables,  where  I  agreed 
with  Mr.  Lamb,  a  most  disreputable,  groomy-looking  rogue, 
with  a  long  waistcoat,  drab  trowsers,  and  a  straw  in  his 
mouth,  to  keep  the  ponies  at  six  reals  each  a  day.  Harry 
has  been  with  the  pretendiente  to  get  our  luggage  out  of 
the  galera  oiSce.  They  have  just  returned,  and  are  in  an 
altercation  with  the  porters. 

They  appealed  to  me,  and  I  took  out  my  watch,  and  said, 
if  they  did  not  take  what  was  offered  in  the  course  of  two 

'  A  barbarous  circingle,  going  over  the  saddle,  fastened  by  an 
iron  hoop,  a  cross  splint  of  wood,  and  a  thong. 

288 


What  is  Patriotism  ? 

minutes,  they  should  have  two  reals  less.  Now  they  are 
gone,  and  I  can  write  again.  Harry's  hat  is  dreadfully 
mangled,  indeed  desperately.  He  has  sent  out  the  pre- 
tendiente  to  buy  him  another,  and  borrow  a  fiddle.  Madrid 
is  a  cheerful-looking  town  by  daylight.  At  breakfast  this 
morning  we  met  an  agreeable  Englishman,  a  contemporary 
of  mine  at  Eton,  and  now  a  fellow  of  King's.  He  got  the 
Latin  poem  medal  the  same  year  I  did  the  English  one. 
We  have  fraternised,  and  already  talk  or  making  an  excur- 
sion to  Toledo  together.     His  name  is  B . 

We  shall  stay  here  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  till  we 
have  made  our  excursions,  and  seen  the  place.  Then  we 
shall  turn  our  bridle-reins  towards  our  native  land.  What 
is  patriotism  ?  Nothing  but  the  love  of  my  country,  because 
it  happens  to  be  my  country, — the  land  of  my  ancestors, — 
my  home, — to  say  nothing  of  being  the  somewhat  ample 
shrine  of  my  little  patroness  saint.  The  true,  unselfish, 
ethereal,  abstract  sort  of  thing  would  be  to  feel  patriotism 
because  it  was  somebody  else's  country. 


289 


CHAPTER   XXV 

Madrid,  Aprit  22. 

1  HAVE  kept  no  journal  since  we  reached  Madrid,  and 
must  write  something,  or  I  shall  forget  all  about  it,  and  have 
no  materials  to  work  upon. 

Oh,  stern  necessity  of  authors,  to  be  always  preserving 
and  potting  the  amusement  of  the  day  for  future  profit  ! 
Oh,  literature,  literature  !  thou  art  indeed  a  base  and  servile 
trade.  From  suggestive  scraps  here  and  there,  out  of  these 
matter-of-fact  rambling  epistles,  I  shall  have  to  construct  a 
brisk  and  sparkling  narrative  of  things  which  never  hap- 
pened, and  sentiments  I  never  felt, — and  all  because  the 
British  public  has  an  acquired  taste  for  artificial  writing,  as 
they  have  for  doctored  wines.  The  pure  vintage  of  the 
heart,  like  genuine  clarets,  seems  poor  and  sour.  It  must 
be  brandied  with  forced  hilarity,  and  Burgundied  with  a 
body  of  rich  and  racy  shams.  It  must  have  a  bouquet  of 
chemically-prepared  sentiment,  and  then  it  is  fit  to  be 
volumed  from  the  rough  cask  of  MS.,  and  decanted  into  the 
reviews. 

We  shall  have  to  write  something  very  careful  this  time 
to  establish  our  reputations,  for  we  are  getting  stricken  in    i 
years  (Harry  and  I  are  twenty-five  and  twenty-six) ;  and  if 
we  are  to  be  famous,  we  ought  to  make  haste  ;  for  what's 
the  fun  of  being  famous  when  we  are  fat  puffy  men  or 

290 


The  Twilight  of  Dawn 

forty  ?  Everybody  is  famous  then  ;  it  is  too  common  to  be 
worth  mentioning. 

But  fame  when  young,  if  there's  a  possibihty 
Of  getting  it,  is  worth  the  wear  and  tear  : 
It  almost  equals  money  or  nobility 
To  help  you  to  the  candid  world's  esteem — 
Their  dinners,  balls,  and  general  civility. 

I  quote  from  an  unpublished  piece  in  terza  rima,  written 
when  I  was  about  eighteen,  and,  in  confidence,  I  don't  see 
I  write  any  better  now  than  I  did  then.  Criticism,  and 
prudence,  and  acquired  facts  to  work  upon,  are  all,  or  nearly 
all,  a  man  gets  by  years,  more  than  he  had  when  he  was  a 
boy  ;  perhaps  a  little  more  mental  endurance,  but  I  don't 
think  the  actual  creative  energy  of  the  mind  increases  much 
after  fifteen  or  sixteen. 

If  I  ever  write  a  novel,  I  will  certainly  begin  with  my 
hero  at  seventeen,  and  leave  him  at  twenty  very  much  the 
same  as  I  found  him,  in  a  practical  point  of  view,  but 
having  gone  through  a  splendid  career  of  romance  and 
experience. 

By  the  way,  "  Vivian  Grey  "  is  an  excellent  instance  of 
the  success  of  this.  With  an  older  hero,  whom  you  are  led 
to  believe  is  in  every  way  fitted  to  become  a  prominent  man 
in  his  country,  you  begin,  towards  the  end  of  the  third 
volume,  to  wonder  why  he  is  not  Secretary  of  State,  or 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  ;  and  the  fact  that  these  offices 
are  filled  by  other  functionaries,  destroys  the  truth-seeming 
of  the  tale  ;  whereas  the  triumphs  and  glory  of  a  boy  are  all 
permitted  to  be  legitimately  in  the  clouds,  and  we  look  upon 
them  with  the  same  un-matter-of-fact  feelings  as  on  a 
gorgeous  sunrise. 

Now  I  must  tell  you  a  little  about  how  we  have  been 

291  T 


A  False  Start 

passing  the  last  week  or  so  since  our  arrival  in  La  Corte ; 
for  so  Madrid  is  called.  After  gaping  and  staring  about  us 
in  a  bewildered  sort  of  way  for  a  day  or  two,  we  agreed  to 

go  to  Toledo  with  Mr.  A B .    We  caused  the  pre- 

tendlentey  who  proves  a  very  inefficient  pretender  (in  fact,  a 
frightened,  half-witted,  chattering,  melancholy  impostor),  to 
inquire  about  the  most  convenient  way  of  going.  He  went 
hither  and  thither,  and  made  a  great  to  do,  but  could  not 
form  an  opinion  between  the  advantages  of  the  direct  dili- 
gence and  the  railway  to  Aranjuez.  We  selected  the  latter, 
and  having  conveyed  ourselves  to  the  station,  found  that  we 
had  an  hour  and  a  quarter  to  wait.  This  was  an  unlucky 
start,  but,  by  the  help  of  conversation,  we  got  through  the 
interregnum. 

When  we  reached  Aranjuez,  we  of  course  made  diligent 
inquiry  for  the  Toledo  diligencia^  and  learnt  that  it  started 
from  3.  posada  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  off.  Hurrying 
to  secure  places,  we  were  told  at  the  'Posada  de  Santa  Isabel 
that  the  diligence  had  gone  to  the  station.  Rushing  back 
to  the  station,  we  found  that  the  diligence  had  been  waiting 
there  all  the  time,  but  out  of  sight  behind  some  buildings, 
and  had  lately  started  in  apathetic  despair  of  passengers, 
quite  empty,  for  Toledo.  Its  conductor  had  probably  been 
smoking  the  cigar  of  resignation,  while  he  ought  to  have 
been  looking  for  travellers ;  and  the  railway  officials,  of 
whom  we  had  inquired,  had  not  thought  fit  to  do  his  business 
for  him. 

With  sundry  maledictions  on  the  way  affairs  are  managed 
in  the  Peninsula,  we  entered  the  town  once  more,  and 
inquired  for  a  private  conveyance  ;  but  the  charges  were  so 
high,  and  the  rate  of  going  so  slow,  that  it  appeared  to  us 
the  cheapest  and  simplest  way  to  pass  the  afternoon  (which 
had  now  turned  out  fine,  after  an  unpromising  morning)  in 

292 


Aranjuez  and  Eton 

Aranjuez,  and  return  by  rail,  to  take  the  direct  diligence, 
after  all. 

So  we  made  the  best  of  our  unfortunate  experiment,  and 
loitered  about  among  the  gardens,  and  pleasure-grounds, 
and    groves,   discoursing    peripatetic    philosophy  on    many 

subjects,  but  chiefly  education  ;  apropos  of  B having 

that  morning  received  a  letter,  calling  him  up  to  Eton,  as  a 
master. 

To  me — leaving  Eton  as  a  little  boy  of  fourteen,  and 
sealing  up,  as  one  always  does,  my  memories  of  the  place  as 
I  left  it,  without  allowance  for  changes  moving  on  unseen — 
it  seemed  strange,  and  a  sudden  accession  of  great  age  to 
myself,  to  find  a  boy  of  the  form  below  me  all  at  once 
become  one  of  those  dreaded  potentates — vicegerents  of 
Jupiter  himself — wrapped  in  a  rustling  cloud  of  dignity  and 
black  silk. 

To  B ,  however,  who  had  grown  up  at  Eton,  and 

known  some  slight  foretaste  of  his  present  responsibilities 
as  a  sixth-form  boy,  and  still  more  as  captain  of  the  school — 
who  had  lived  with  present  masters  as  companions,  both  at 
Eton  and  King's — the  appointment  suggested  a  long  future 
of  patient  drudgery,  among  troublesome  little  boys,  con- 
trasted with  the  happy  recollections  of  his  own  school  days. 

We  consoled  him  over  his  good  fortune  (for  you  must 
know  that  an  Eton  mastership  is  a  very  comfortable  thing 
in  many  points  of  view,  and  all  good  fortune  has  its  draw- 
backs), by  placing  his  profession  in  the  most  poetical  light 
we  could.  While  he  and  Harry  sat  on  a  magnificently 
carved  but  dampish  marble  bench,  I,  who  was  afraid  it 
might,  as  the  phrase  is,  strike  cold  if  I  sat  down,  stood 
before  them,  and  delivered  something  like  the  following 
charge,  whose  intermittent  pauses  in  the  cigar-puff  were 
taken  up  by  the  bubbling  murmurs  of  that  quaintly-graven 

293 


A  Charge  on  Education 

fountain  whose   portrait  by  the  great  Velasquez  hangs  in 
the  royal  gallery  of  Madrid. 

"  When  a  man  enters  upon  any  profession,  he  is  always 
met  in  the  vestibule  of  it  by  a  troublesome  crowd  of  atten- 
dant difficulties  and  disadvantages.  And  this  is  well ;  for 
the  incompetent  may  as  well  be  disheartened  at  once,  while 
the  able  master  must  familiarise  himself  with  adverse 
influences  which  he  has  in  the  sequel  to  correct  and 
overcome. 

"Let  us  consider  these  difficulties  and  disadvantages  in 
the  case  of  the  teacher.  There  is  a  daily  trial  of  patience 
with  refractory  little  imps  ;  a  daily  pounding  over  the 
same  short  road  of  juvenile  study.  There  is  the  temptation 
to  neglect — the  temptation  to  tyranny — the  temptation  to 
favouritism.  A  short-sighted,  ambitious  man  might  slur 
over  the  education  of  his  boys,  to  cultivate  his  own  mind. 
A  hasty  man  might  easily  slip  into  the  habit  of  using  his 
almost  despotic  power  without  due  conscientious  consider- 
ation. An  enthusiastic  man  would  naturally  be  led  to 
expend  all  his  attention  on  promising  and  congenial  pupils, 
to  the  prejudice  of  others. 

"  You  may  say  such  a  profession  is  a  death-blow  to  ambi- 
tious prospects.  I  answer,  that  a  calling  in  which  a  young 
man  acquires  scrupulous  care,  discrimination,  and  justice,^ 
cannot  be  throwing  time  away  ;  and  that  learning  to  rule 
boys  is  the  first  step  towards  ruling  men.  You  will  sayJ 
*  There  is  no  instance  !  A  man  gets  lazy,  and  loses  his 
mettle  like  a  horse  in  a  mill.  A  pedagogue  never  becomes 
anything  more.' 

"  Great  men  are  rare,  I  answer,  and  still  rarer  are  those 
who  have  grown  great  in  comfortable  situations. 

"But  say  that  the  profession  of  a  teacher  leads  to  nothing 
but  a  very  improbable  bishopric,  which  is  of  no  service  to 
,      294 


Genuine  Dignity 


layman's  anticipations.  What  is  ambition  of  any  reasonable 
and  noble  kind,  but  a  desire  to  influence  the  minds  of  men 
in  your  day  ?  Agreed  ;  but  you  think  it  an  unsatisfactory 
substitute  to  influence  the  minds  of  boys.  All  ambition  is 
too  eager  for  rapid  results.  Those  boys  will  be  men — and 
when  do  you  think  you  will  find  their  minds  so  open  and 
accessible  to  worthy  influences  as  in  the  tender  and  com- 
paratively pure  season  of  their  youth  ? 

"  Do  you  think,  if  you  were  a  clever,  harassed  leader  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  with  a  pack  of  wrong-headed 
country  gentlemen  at  your  back,  you  would  be  influencing 
the  mind  of  your  fellow-creatures  more  effectually  ? 

"  I  know  it  is  difficult  to  influence  without  being  a  com- 
panion as  well  as  a  teacher  ;  and  it  is  difficult  not  to  lose 
some  of  the  magisterial  awe  and  grandeur  in  that  familiar 
frankness  which  alone  can  make  a  man  agreeable  to  boys. 
But  however  the  shams  of  this  world  demand  reserve, 
whatever  is  real  may  be  safely  open  and  free.  True  power 
comes  from  real  capability,  true  dignity  from  real  virtue. 
A  truly  capable  and  good  man  will  never  lose  his  power  or 
his  dignity  among  his  boys  by  being  too  familiarly  known  : 
familiarity  only  breeds  contempt  when  the  person  we  are 
familiar  with  is  more  or  less  contemptible,  which,  I  fear,  in 
some  points,  is  more  or  less  the  case  with  us  all. 

"  To  be  a  good  teacher  requires  a  more  perfect  combina- 
tion of  great  and  well-balanced  qualities  than  any  other 
profession  whatever.  Other  powers  are  checked,  and  kept 
in  order  by  republican  elements,  out  of  the  clash  of  which  a 
tolerable  approximation  to  truth  and  justice  is  jostled.  But 
the  master  is  a  despot,  and  on  him  alone  depends  whether 
his  despotism  be  for  good  or  evil.  It  is  a  very  arduous  task  ; 
enough  to  make  anybody  anxious  and  uncertain  of  his 
capacity  for  it. 

295 


Long  Chamber 


"Still  I  think  it  possible  for  a  very  good,  and  prudent,  and 
earnest-minded  man  (let  us  say  one  man  in  ten  thousand) 
to  be  a  good  schoolmaster  ;  and  depend  upon  it,  it  is  a  very 
noble  ambition  to  be  that  man.  The  more  so,  as  he  may 
be  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  useful  men  in  his  country, 
without  being  distressed  by  the  stupid  blockheads  whose 
voices  make  the  noise  of  Fame,  finding  out  that  he  is  any- 
thing more  than  *  a  very  good  schoolmaster — a  most  excel- 
lent man  to  trust  with  one's  boys  ! ' 

"  And  this,  I  hope,  will  be  the  report  I  shall  hear  from 
some  great  blockhead,  when  I  am  determined  to  take  up 

two  or  three  of  my  little  blockheads  to  Dr.  B ,  then 

head-master  of  Eton.  And  as  I  hand  you  my  envelope  of 
ten-pound  notes  (as  if  it  was  a  letter  of  parental  instruc- 
tions), I  shall  refer  you,  for  my  wishes  with  regard  to  my 
children,  to  a  conversation  some  five-and-twenty  years  ago 
in  the  gardens  of  Aranjuez.  And  my  eldest  little  boy,  as 
we  come  out  of  the  door  at  the  bottom  of  the  tower,  where 
we  had  been  registering  our  names,  will  say, — 

"  'I  think  Dr.  B looks  rather  a  good  old  boy,  papa, 

but  where  is  Arrang-hweth,  papa  ? ' 

"'Aranjuez,  my  son,  is  the  Windsor  of  Spain,  or  rather 
the  Versailles.' 

"  '  Was  it  built  by  Louis  Quatorze,  papa  ?  '  " 

We  wandered  about  among  the  leafy  avenues  and  glades, 

while   B told   us   amusing  stories  about  life  in  Long 

Chamber,  where  all  the  collegers  used  formerly  to  live  in  a 
sort  of  prison  republic  ;  but  it  is  now  cut  up  into  separate 
bedrooms,  and  glazed  :  in  my  time  there  were  only  iron 
gratings  in  the  windows.  There  used  to  be  fancy  balls  and 
theatricals,  and  masquerades  and  hot  suppers,  up  in  that 
Long  Chamber,  and  there  was  a  tradition  that,  in  earlier 
times,  an  old  sow  had  been  carried  up  the  narrow  stairs,  and 

296 


Her  Catholic  Majesty 

kept  on  the  roof  till  she  littered,  and  furnished  roast-pig  for 
a  month. 

When  we  came  to  all  the  little  pigs,  it  reminded  us  we 
were  hungry,  and  we  returned  to  our  restaurant^  inquiring, 
as  we  passed  the  palace  gates,  what  time  the  Queen  was 
likely  to  come  out  ;  but  they  said  it  was  uncertain.  So  we 
dined,  and  returned  to  the  gardens,  and  loitered  about 
among  the  flowers  and  statues,  till  the  gay  manta  of  sunset 
was  weaving  in  the  western  sky,  and  it  was  almost  time  to 
think  of  returning  to  Madrid. 

Just  as  we  were  moving  away,  there  was  a  trampling  of 
horses  in  the  distance,  and  the  royal  cortege  of  trundling 
carriages  and  trotting  guards  came  by.  We  saw  her 
Catholic  Majesty  very  tolerably  as  she  passed.  But  our 
acquaintance  was  not  to  be  so  transitory.  The  whole  line 
wheeled  round  in  a  semicircle,  and  drew  up  before  a  house 
in  the  great  plaza^  next  the  garden. 

An  old  lady  and  a  bald-headed  gentleman  came  out  on  the 
balcony  over  the  colonnade.  These  were  the  Queen  Mother 
and  Senor  Muiioz.  We  drew  near  to  see  and  hear 
what  passed,  and  stood,  with  our  hats  off,  under  the 
colonnade,  within  three  or  four  yards  of  the  Queen's 
panel,  while  she  talked  over  our  heads  to  her  relatives  on 
the  balcony. 

She  spoke  in  a  clear,  pleasant,  natural  voice,  so  that  every 
word  could  be  heard  both  by  those  above  and  below.  The 
matter  was  entirely  domestic  :  inquiring  about  Christina's 
children,  who  had  the  measles  (which,  by  the  way,  accounted 
for  this  sort  of  vi^ic,  oy  the  fear  of  the  little  Princess  of 
Asturias  catching  them) ;  she  related  how  her  own  baby  had 
been,  and  took  it  from  the  gaily-dressed  Asturian  nurse,  and 
held  it  up  to  be  looked  at. 

As  far  as  I  remember,  the  presumptive  heiress  of  all  the 

297 


Toledo 

Spains  had  slept  rather  badly  the  night  before,  and  certainly 
seemed  sleepy  now.  The  Queen  is  a  prettyish,  lady-like 
woman,  and  looks  about  twenty-five.  Her  nose  certainly  is 
not  a  very  choice  feature,  but  not  near  so  bad  as  those 
frightful  snub-nosed  caricatures  on  her  coins  would  lead 
one  to  expect. 

There  was  something  singular  in  the  perfectly  easy, 
unembarrassed,  and  unaffected  manner  in  which  she  talked 
of  her  household  interests  before  a  gathering  crowd  of  her 
subjects  ;  as  if  she  saw  no  reason  why  a  queen  should 
pretend  to  be  more  than  a  woman,  or  be  ashamed  of  her 
maternal  anxieties  and  filial  duties.  But  kings  and  queens 
are  accustomed  to  live  in  public,  and  I  dare  say  she  thought 
no  more  of  the  hundred  and  fifty  people  or  so  who  sur- 
rounded her  than  if  they  had  been  half  a  dozen  busts  in  her 
own  bedroom. 

So  we  went  back  to  Madrid,  on  the  whole  aot  dissatisfied 
with  our  day,  nor  altogether  sorry  we  had  missed  the  Toledo 
diligence. 

Next  day  we  learnt  by  inquiries,  made  this  time  in  person, 
that  the  diligence  only  went  alternate  days,  and  would  not 
go  till  the  morrow.     I  passed  the  evening  at  the  house  of 

the  Duque  de  R ,  a  poet,  historian,  and  an  agreeable 

man  :  formerly  ambassador  of  Naples.  He  has  some  lively 
and  pleasant  daughters,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  cheerful 
conversation.  I  went  without  invitation,  having  been 
made  free  of  the  house,  and  the  Duquesa  receiving  every 
evening.  I  had  made  the  Duque's  acquaintance  in  Seville, 
when  he  asked  me  to  come  and  see  him  as  I  passed 
Madrid. 

At  last  we  got  off  to  Toledo  by  the  direct  diligence.  After 
six  or  seven  hours  of  bleak  uninteresting  country,  we  went 
up  a  steep  hill,  and  under  a  great  Moorish  gateway.     I  am 

298 


The  Armeria 

sorry  to  say  that  the  expectations  we  had  formed  of  Toledo 
were  not  realised.  We  immediately  set  about  seeing  what 
was  to  be  seen  ;  but  the  cathedral,  which  we  began  with,  did 
not  strike  us  much  ;  it  has  neither  much  grace  nor  magni- 
ficence. What  struck  me  most,  were  some  large  and  rather 
brilliant  frescoes  along  the  arched  walls  of  the  cloister. 
They  are,  I  believe,  neither  very  antique  nor  very  excellent 
in  point  of  art ;  but  the  eflPect  was  peculiar. 

The  view  of  the  city  from  the  tower  was  cold  and  stony, 
with  but  little  beauty  or  irregularity  of  form  in  the  hill  on 

which  it  stands.     B had  to  go  back  on   the  morrow 

early,  and  we  determined  to  accompany  him,  instead  of 
waiting  two  days  more  for  the  diligence's  next  trip.  I  think, 
perhaps,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  sake  of  his  agreeable 
society,  we  might  have  stayed,  on  the  chance  of  Toledo's 
improving  on  further  acquaintance.  But  this  overbalanced 
our  further  curiosity  ;  so,  as  I  wanted  to  have  a  real  Toledo 
blade  for  my  court  sword,  I  made  haste,  and  left  them 
in  the  cathedral-tower,  and  hurried  down  to  the  armeria ^ 
which  lies  below  the  city,  about  a  mile  out,  that  I  might  get 
there  before  it  closed. 

It  is  a  huge  building,  where  the  clash  and  clang  of  ham- 
mers and  the  roar  of  furnaces  resound.  It  is  a  government 
fabric,  but  there  is  a  bureau  where  they  keep  samples  for 
sale.  I  bought  the  lightest  small-sword  I  could  find,  and  a 
dagger  for  Harry.    As  I  was  coming  away  I  met  Harry  and 

B ^     We  went  and  sat  by  the  banks  of  the  Tagus,  near 

a  watermill. 

The  view  of  Toledo  here,  where  the  river  sweeps  round 
the  foot  of  the  long  battlement-crowned  hill,  is  picturesque ; 
and  Harry  got  out  his  sketch-book,  while  we  sat  and  extem- 
porised little  better  than  nonsense  verses  on  the  sunset,  and 
the  Tagus,  and  Toledo  ;    and  while  I  washed  and  rubbed 

299 


A   Sordid   Muse 

the  grimy  handle  of  my  blade  (which  had  already  con- 
siderably blackened  mv  hand)  in  the  water  and  sand  of  the 
river. 

I. 
It  was  the  sunset  hour — 
On  battlement  and  tower 
Gleam'd  the  red  slanting  rays  : 
High  up  Toledo,  piled 
In  massive  grandeur,  smiled 
Grimly,  like  some  old  warrior  lit  with  battle's  blaze. 

II. 

Upon  the  tawny  sand, 
A  sword-blade  in  his  hand, 
A  northern  youth  there  knelt — 
He  plunged  the  weapon  keen 
In  Tajo's  ripples  sheen  : 
"Tajador,  I  do  baptize  thee,  thou  new  glory  of  my  belt! 

III. 
"Perchance,  long  hid  beneath 

Thy  silver-clasped  sheath. 
Worn  but  for  courtly  show — 
Who  knows  ? — a  day  may  dawn. 
When  in  right  earnest  drawn. 
Thy  temper  may  be  put  to  proof  by  parry  and  by  blow  ! " 

"  Bravo,  most  valiant  bard  !  "  said  B ,  "and   Tajadir 

(the  cutter)  would  be  a  most  excellent  name  for  a  sword 
baptized  in  the  Tajo,  if  it  only  had  a  trenchant  edge  ;  but 
this  one,  being  a  small-sword  with  no  edge  at  all,  gives  me 
scruples." 

"What  of  that  ?  It  has  a  point,  and  so  has  my  joke  ;  and 
if  my  joke's  point  don't  make  people  laugh,  my  sword's  point 
shall  make  them  cry.  Come,  make  me  a  good  Latin  pun, 
apropos  of  a  Toledo  blade,  while  I  turn  some  English  ones  ; 
for  I  will  engrave  it  all  over  with  epigrams,  and  make  it  the 

300 


A  Comical   Blade 

most  comical  blade  in  all  Christendom."  He  took  out  a 
pencil  and  the  back  of  a  letter,  and  began  to  turn  about  his 
materials.     In  a  minute  or  two  he  hit  off  this — 

TIMETOLETVM, 
which  (I  need  scarcely  tell  the  erudite  reader)  reads,  either 

TIME  TOLETVM  (honour  Toledo),  or 
TIMETO  LETVM  (fear  death). 

Here  are  some  of  mine,  merely  general  mottoes  for  a 
small-sword,  without  reference  to  Toledo,  which  I  could 
make  nothing  of. 


Though  slight  I  am,  no  slight  I  stand, 
Saving  my  master's  sleight  of  hand. 

II. 

'Gainst  words  or  deeds  my  wearer  may  resent, 
I'm  a  cool,  POLISHED,  pointed  argument. 


r  ~ 


III. 

Come  to  the  point — unless  you  do, 
The  point  will  shortly  come  to  you. 

IV. 

If  the  hints  written  on  my  blade, 
Through  eye  or  ear  may  not  persuade; 
I  to  your  heart  a  way  can  find, 
Perhaps  not  so  much  to  your  mind. 

B also  suggested,  as  a  proper  motto  for  the  hilt,  this 

Spanish  one,  which  Ford  gives  as  used  on  some  old  Toledo 
blade  : — 

No    ME   SAQUES   SIN    RAZON, 

No  m'  envaines  sin  honor. 

(Do  not  draw  me  without  reason — 
Do  not  sheathe  me  without  honour.) 
301 


Piously  Truculent 


Gayangos,  the  great  Moorish  antiquarian  of  Spain,  who 
happened  to  call  on  me  the  day  after  our  return,  gave  me 
the  following  inscription  : — 

(I  will  slay  thine  enemy  by  the  help  of  the  Lord.) 

We  returned  to  Madrid  early  next  morning  without 
adventures,  and  have  equally  without  adventures  passed 
three  or  four  days  since  our  return,  chiefly  in  the  picture- 
galleries,  on  which  I  don't  feel  inclined  at  present,  if  ever, 
to  enlarge.  We  have  got  tickets  for  a  bull-fight  to-morrow. 
In  a  few  days  we  shall  go  to  Cuenca. 

The  following  is  a  letter  written  from  Madrid,  of  which 
the  author  has  by  fair  words  recovered  the  copyright  from 
its  fair  proprietress,  and  of  which  the  reader,  if  he  or  she  be 
not  of  a  sentimental  turn,  may  skip  as  much  as  he  or  she 
chooses. 


302 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

Letter  to  

Madrid,  April  29. 
You  were  once  pleased  to  observe,  dearest  critic,  that  my 
letters  were  generally  the  most  amusing  when  they  were 
about  nothing  at  all.  It  would  have  been  more  compli- 
mentary to  have  put  it,  "  When  they  were  about  nothing 
particular,"  for  that  is  my  favourite  and  most  usual  style  : 
and  indeed  I  now  take  up  my  pen  to  scribble  you  a  line  or 
two  before  we  start  for  Cuenca,  being  precisely  in  the  pre- 
dicament of  having  nothing  particular  to  say. 

The  first  axiom  of  letter-writing  is,  "Put  pen  to  paper,  and 
you  may  depend  something  will  come  of  it."  What  a  com- 
mon and  ridiculous  excuse  heads  half  the  letters  of  one's 
dearest  friends  : — "  I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you 
the  last  six  months,  but  I  had  nothing  particular  to  say." 
I  always  answer  on  such  occasions,  "  Then  why  the  deuce 
didn't  you  write,  and  say  nothing  particular  ?  " 

It  is  a  week  since  I  wrote  last ;  and  I  have  got  so  much 
infected  with  a  vicious  habit  of  correspondence,  that  the 
desire  of  writing  comes  upon  me  independent  of  any 
plethoric  secretion  of  epistolary  elements. 

I  am  drawn  to  my  blotting-book  as  the  best  representa- 
tive I  can  find  in  Madrid  of  your  portals  in  Berkeley  Square. 
While  I  write  to  you,  I  am  in  your  society,  as  much  as 

303 


Learnt  by  Heart 


memory  and  imagination  can  patch  up  a  counterfeit  ot 
reality.  I  fancy  I  hear  your  voice,  answering  the  foolish 
things  I  write. 

You  seem  to  sit  near  me  in  that  great  old  damask  chair 
whose  ebony  elbows  are  carved  with  lions'  heads  and  claws, 
v^^here  you  so  often  sit  in  the  library  after  breakfast.  I  see 
the  lights  move  on  the  rich,  brown,  wavy  clusters  of  your 
hair,  as  you  look  up  at  me,  with  an  incredulous  smile  light- 
ing the  delicate  transparent  features,  to  cross-question  me 
whether  I  can  really  call  up  a  fair  familiar  spirit,  the  double 
of  yourself. 

I  see  you  very  plainly  (or  let  us  say,  very  prettily)  at  this 
moment.  I  see  the  stained  sunlight  of  the  library's  oriel 
flicker  on  the  loose  pleats  of  a  longish-waisted  dress,  as  you 
breathe.  "  Come,  w^hat  colour  is  my  dress  ?  "  you  say  sud- 
denly, thinking  I  shall  not  be  able  to  tell,  on  the  emergency, 
and  so  be  exposed  in  a  mild  attempt  at  second  sight.  My 
dear  madam,  I  have  not  studied  your  dresses  with  the  same 
attention  I  have  devoted  to  yourself :  but  your  dress  is  grey, 
a  lightish  French  grey,  and  it  has  a  shiny  look,  like  poplin, 
or  something  of  that  sort ;  but  I  am  not  learned  in 
stuffs. 

But,  suffice  it  to  say,  I  have  a  general  and  picturesque 
consciousness  of  your  presence,  which  catches  all  the  prin- 
cipal points  distinctly,  and  leaves  the  rest  undefined.  For 
instance,  I  can  see  your  chatelaine^  and  your  pocket-hand- 
kerchief trimmed  with  Valenciennes,  and  I  can  plainly  smell 
that  there  is  eau-de-cologne  among  the  cambric-folds.  I 
assure  you,  I  felt  just  now  a  distinct  temporary  scruple  in 
lighting  my  cigarillo  in  your  presence. 

How  is  it  in  your  case  ?  When  you  are  reading  one  or 
my  letters,  for  instance,  do  you  imagine  me  talking  in  the 
genuine  unmusical  tones  of  my  own  voice  ? — do  you  see  me 

304 


A  Spanish  Comedy 

twirling  impatiently  round,  like  a  Hindoo  votary  in  torture, 
on  the  music-stool  (which  I  have  brought  up  near  your 
chair),  when  you  think  some  cruel  and  unkind  remark  ? 
"  It  is  just  like  one  of  your  impertinent  questions.  Don't 
talk  nonsense,  but  tell  me  something  amusing,  for  example, 
something  about  your  life  in  Madrid,  now  !  " 

But,  of  course,  I  prefer  to  talk  nonsense.  How  much  of 
my  life  in  Madrid  do  you  think  I  should  tell  you  if  I  was 
sitting  on  the  twirly  music-stool  at  this  moment,  instead  of 
where  I  am  at  the  top  of  the  Casa  del  Maragato^  with  my 
swealing  candle  only  for  company,  for  Harry  has  been  in 
bed  in  the  little  room  adjoining  some  time,  and  the  other 
candle  lately  burnt  out  ? 

It  is  past  twelve.  We  came  home  at  eleven  from  the 
Teatro  del  Principe,  where  we  saw  a  comedy  that  would 
have  amused  you.  It  is  called  El  Ingles  y  el  Viscaino. 
The  Biscayan  is  ruined,  and  contemplating  suicide,  repairs 
to  the  river.  When  he  is  about  to  throw  himself  in,  he 
finds  he  is  observed  by  a  melancholy  man,  in  a  drab  great- 
coat with  a  cape,  who  he  feels  sure  will  have  him  fished  out. 
He  retires  to  wait  till  the  coast  is  clear. 

The  melancholy  drab  man  comes  forward,  and  proves  to 
be  an  English  milord^  who,  finding  life  a  bore,  has  deter- 
mined to  make  an  end  of  it.  He  contemplates  his  past  life. 
"  Here  I  am,  a  man  with  fifty  thousand  guineas  of  rent,  in 
perfect  health,  possessing  everything,  in  fact,  which  people 
who  haven't  got,  wish  for  ;  and  yet  I  am  miserable. 

"  I  have  tried  everything.  I  bought  a  ship  and  sailed 
round  the  world.  I  am  tired  of  travelling.  Once  I  tried 
sleeping  twenty  hours  a  day :  but  I  got  tired  of  my  bed. 

"There  is  nothing  for  it  but  drowning, — the  only  thing 
I  have  not  yet  tried.  The  famous  Shikkypeer  has  written  a 
noble  soliloquy  on  suicide.     Come,  I  will   repeat   it  :  Ser^ 


Despair  and  Disgust 

0  no  ser — eso  es  el  Caso'^  (a  pause)  ; — there  is  an  impediment 
to  my  finishing  the  soliloquy,  for,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 

1  never  could  remember  more  than  the  first  line.  I  must 
drown  myself,  evidently,  without  repeating  the  soliloquy." 
He  goes  to  the  bank,  and  meets  the  Biscayan. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  spying  upon  my  movements  ?  " 

"  If  you  come  to  that,  what  do  you  mean  by  watching 
me  ? " 

"  I  am  not  watching  you — I  have  business  here." 

«  So  have  I." 

"  How  can  that  be  ;  I  am  about  to  drown  myself  in  the 
river  ? " 

"SoamI!" 

"  Singular  coincidence  !  Why  are  you  going  to  drown 
yourself  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  ruined  man.  I  have  lost  everything — my  name 
as  a  man  of  commercial  honour  will  be  stigmatised  !  " 

"  What  an  absurd  reason  !  Why,  I  should  think  there 
must  be  something  very  exciting  and  novel  in  the  feeling  of 
being  ruined  ? " 

"  Do  not  jest  with  me,  sir  !  I  am  desperate." 

"  I  am  not  jesting.  Come,  to  show  you  I  am  in  earnest, 
let  us  go  and  drown  ourselves  in  company." 

"  But  why  do  you  drown  yourself  ? " 

"  I  find  life  an  insufferable  bore.  I  have  tried  everything 
except  drowning  and  being  ruined.  I  think  it  might 
interest  me  though,  to  hear  your  history  before  I  die.  Let 
me  hear  it  ! " 

"  It  is  very  cold  here  for  conversation.  Come  and  sup  at 
my  house,  and  we  will  relate  our  histories,  for  I  cannot  con- 
sent to  drown  myself  in  your  company  until  I  am  convinced 
you  have  just  cause  for  so  desperate  an  action." 

'  "  To  be  or  not  to  be,"  &c. 
306 


Another   Bull-Fight 

They  adjourn  to  the  merchant's  house.  The  Englishman 
falls  in  love  with  his  daughter.  They  drink  a  few  bottles  of 
rom.  The  Englishman  keeps  perfectly  steady  and  melan- 
choly, while  the  Biscayan  gets  very  drunk.  The  result  of 
course  is,  that  the  milord  is  struck  with  the  idea  of  liqui- 
dating the  bankrupt's  liabilities,  finds  benevolence  a  new 
and  delightful  sensation  worth  living  for,  marries  the 
Biscayan's  daughter,  and  the  piece  ends  happily  and  drily — 
at  any  rate  not  in  the  river. 

The  bull-fight  I  mentioned  as  in  prospect,  came  off  pretty 
well,  but  not  brilliantly.  The  weather  had  been  coldish, 
and  the  ganado  (cattle)  were  sulky  and  truculent,  instead 
of  being  brisk  and  furious,  which  is  the  most  favourable  as 
well  as  safest  phase  of  taurine  humour.  They  showed  a 
disposition  to  be  wary  and  false,  running  at  the  men  rather 
than  the  gaudy  draperies  flourished  in  their  faces  to  draw 
them. 

The  audience  were  not  in  good  humour,  especially  some 
aficionados  (amateurs)  near  us,  who  seemed  greatly  to  dis- 
approve of  the  performance  of  one  of  the  picadores. 

There  was  a  very  savage  beast  in  the  arena,  who  had 
made  terrible  havoc  among  the  horses  ;  and  this  picador^ 
who  had  been  the  most  unfortunate,  was  manifestly  dis- 
heartened, and  seemed  divided  in  his  mind  whether 
to  be  more  afraid  of  the  bull  below  or  the  taunting 
remarks  which  rained  upon  his  head  from  the  indignant 
galleries. 

His  reputation  was  at  stake,  and  I  felt  sorry  for  the  poor 
fellow.  He  spurred  his  bleeding  and  disembowelled  horse, 
and  went  to  the  charge  apparently  with  an  uncomfortable 
presentiment.  The  bull  rushed  at  him  with  a  tremendous 
impetus,  which  his  lance  was  powerless  to  resist.  The 
horns   were    plunged   into    the    breast    of   the    horse,   who 

307  u 


Shorter  than  the   Former 

reared  and  fell  backwards  with  his  rider  all  of  a  heap. 
The  chulos  did  not  come  readily  enough  to  distract  the 
bull's  attention,  and  he  trampled  and  gored  his  victim  at 
leisure. 

The  wretches  near  us  cried,  "  Bravo  toro — n^alegro.  It 
serves  you  rightly  for  pricking  so  badly."  But  when  the 
picador  was  taken  up  senseless,  with  his  face  covered  with 
blood,  and  carried  round  on  a  shutter,  they,  thinking  he 
would  probably  die  shortly,  reconsidered  the  poor  man's 
feelings  a  little,  and  how  unpleasant  it  must  be  to  perish  in 
the  hour  of  his  ill  success,  in  the  midst  of  outcries  and 
execrations  on  his  want  of  skill  and  courage  ;  so  they 
changed  their  cries  of  malegro  for  "  Que  lasthna  !  "  (what  a 
pity),  a  mildish  reparation  under  the  circumstances. 

The  whole  affair,  from  beginning  to  end,  was  infinitely 
more  bloody  and  horrid  than  anything  in  the  sample  at 
Seville,  which  I  remember  describing  with  tolerable  accuracy. 
It  has  quite  satisfied  us  that  bull-fights  are  not  to  our  taste, 
and  we  never  intend  to  go  again.  One  of  the  bulls  had  a 
marked  objection  to  fight,  though  he  was  strong  and  active, 
as  plainly  appeared,  by  his  jumping  over  the  barrier  (about 
six  feet  high)  five  times  in  rapid  succession.  However, 
when  he  found  he  could  not  get  away,  he  fought 
buUfully. 

There  was  another  bull-fight  yesterday,  in  which  two  men 
were  killed.  All  Madrid  is  saying,  "  Que  lastima  !  "  about 
it  to-day.  They  say  the  bulls  are  in  a  very  exceptionally- 
dangerous  frame  of  mind  this  season. 

It  is  bedtime,  and  I  must  end  this  letter,  which  you  will 
think  a  very  short  and  shabby  one,  though  it  covers  a 
closely-written  sheet  of  letter-paper.  But  the  gigantic 
proportions  of  my  ordinary  paquets  must  have  distended 
your  capacities   of  letter-reading    to    an   exorbitant    pitch. 

308 


Madrid 

What  a  sum  they  must  cost  you  in  postage  ;  for  here  letteis 
to  England  cannot  be  paid  for.  Your  delicate  foreign 
letter-paper  sheets  cost  me  about  three  shillings  ;  but  my 
revenge  is  something  terrible  to  think  of.  If  we  come  back 
alive  from  Cuenca,  you  shall  have  a  ponderous  account  of 
our  expedition. 

Ever,  &c. 

P.S. — As  we  have  breakfasted  earlier  than  we  need  have 
done,  and  the  Cuenca  diligence  does  not  set  ofF  till  noon,  I 
have  time  to  spare  ;  so  I  have  determined  to  cover  my  letter 
with  another  half-sheet,  and  write  a  postscript  on  it  about 
Madrid. 

It  is  a  vaguish  affair  to  have  to  squeeze  a  whole  capital 
into  a  postscript  ;  but  I  have  no  time  to  individualise,  and 
a  postscript  on  something  in  general  will  follow  well  enough 
after  a  letter  about  nothing  particular. 

Madrid  is  built  in  a  roundish  square,  with  a  wall  and 
boulevard  squaring  the  circle.  On  the  western  brow  of  the 
plateau  is  the  palace,  which  has  some  handsome  rooms  in  it. 
We  saw  a  very  good  copy  of  Murillo's  best  picture  (in  the 
Madrid  gallery)  hung  in  the  palace,  and  thinking  it  might 
be  a  duplicate  of  the  artist  himself,  learnt  it  was  a  copy  by 
the  queen. 

Next  door  to  the  palace  is  the  great  armoury.  Here  we 
saw  the  swords  and  suits  of  many  heroes  of  high  fame,  and 
exquisite  workmanship.  It  made  me  wish  I  had  lived  in 
those  times,  that  I  might  have  inlaid  myself  a  suit  of  black 
steel  with  silver  patterns  of  my  own  device.  The  Christian 
patterns  showed  a  paucity  of  invention  ;  but  the  Moorish 
were  good  in  device,  though  I  think  not  so  graceful  in  form. 
The  armour  of  Boabdil  is  very  nicely  inlaid.  But  what  do 
you  care  about  bosses  and  borders,  and  jewel-hilted  rapiers  ? 


Statue  of  Cervantes 

About  as  much  as  I  do  about  bonnet-ribbons,  and  ruches^ 
and  mother-of-pearl-handled  parasols  ! 

Now  we  will  skip,  if  you  please,  to  the  north-east  corner 
of  the  city.  Here  is  the  famous  Prado.  Prado  means 
meadow  ;  and  this  pleasaunce  is  so  called,  because  there  is 
not  an  inch  square  of  grass.  It  is  all  boscage,  cut  into  ten 
thousand  pieces  by  gravel-walks — making  a  pleasant  laby- 
rinth to  wander  and  make  love, — with  stone  seats.  The 
broad  walk  up  the  centre  is  lined  by  immense  numbers  of 
the  largish-sized  kings,  and  princes,  and  queens,  from  Wamba 
and  his  lady  downwards.  There  are  reservoirs  of  muddyish 
water,  and  ducks  and  geese. 

Returning,  we  cross  the  Paseo,  a  noble  avenue,  where,  as 
by  the  Serpentine, — 

Smooth-trundling  fashion  courts,  in  cushioned  ease, 
A  dusty  freshness  from  the  evening  breeze. 

On  the  other  side,  crowning  the  slight  rise  of  the  fan- 
shaped  boca-calle  (street-mouth)  of  the  Carrera  San 
Hieronymo,  stands  the  statue  of  Cervantes,  which,  though 
quite  modern,  is  the  thing  which  pleases  me  most  in 
Madrid  ;  not  because  it  is  particularly  good,  but  because 
the  nation  has  attempted  to  do  justice,  at  last,  to  her  long- 
neglected  son.  On  the  pedestal  is  graven  "  AL  PRINCIPE 
DE  LOS  iNGENios  ESPANOLES "  (To  the  chief  of  Spanish 
wits).  I  wish  he  could  have  seen  it  before  he  died.  He 
must  often  have  walked  over  the  place.  Ford's  excellent 
joke,  "  To  him  whom  his  country  refused  bread  while  living, 
they  have  at  last  given  a  stone,"  is  unfortunately  not  exact. 
The  statue  is  a  bronze.  His  country,  by  way  of  posthumous 
charity,  have  presented  him  with  a  copper. 


310 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

CuENCA,    May   I. 

We  set  off  at  twelve  in  the  hanqueta  at  the  top  of  the 
diligence.  After  a  tedious  day  of  barren,  uninteresting 
country,  a  still  more  tedious  night  came  on.  We  luckily 
had  it  to  ourselves,  and  tossing  up  for  choice  of  places, 
disposed  ourselves,  Harry  under  foot,  below^  the  leather 
apron,  and  I  along  the  seat. 

The  relative  advantages  vi^ere  nearly  balanced.  He  had 
more  shelter  from  the  wind  ;  I  had  a  hard  leather  seat 
instead  of  a  bare  foot-board  to  lie  upon.  It  grew  colder  and 
colder.  The  wind  whistled  and  howled  in  the  cabriolet- 
head,  whose  leather  curtains,  as  a  matter  of  course,  would 
not  meet  by  full  two  feet. 

I  did  something  temporary  with  my  silk  pocket-hand- 
kerchief, tying  it  at  the  corners  to  stop  the  gap.  It  sagged 
in  like  a  bellying  sail,  and  the  cold  air  blew  in  through  it 
as  if  it  was  a  sieve,  and  only  let  the  most  rarified  and 
piercing  particles  pass.  Harry,  in  a  melancholy  sleepy 
voice  from  below,  said  that  it  acted  as  a  wind-sail,  and 
turned  the  draught  down  below  decks. 

We  were  in  our  Madrid  dresses,  and  had  not  brought 
our  capas  (mine,  indeed,  was  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Jaen, 
but  I  might  have  brought  my  plaid).  I  can't  think  how 
we  could  have  been  so  stupid  ;  but  at  our  outset  there  was 


Clarence  a  Little  Altered 

a  fine  blazing  noonday  sun,  and  we  thought  our  great-coats    j 
would  be  enough. 

"  Oh,  Lord  !  methought,  what  pain  it  was  to  starve  !  " 
I  was  sleepy  too,  to  add  to  my  torments,  and  could  not 
doze  three  minutes  together  without  being  awakened  by 
the  cold  or  the  jolting.  At  last  the  day  began  to  break, 
but  the  light  made  it  no  warmer  ;  and  even  when  the 
broad  red  sun  slanted  over  the  dark  masses  of  Cuenca 
among  the  hills,  he  seemed  powerless. 

However,  in  half  an  hour  or  so  his  genial  beams  began 
to  tell.  The  postilion,  who  had  ridden  all  night,  beginning 
to  feel  more  comfortable,  fell  asleep.  These  poor  wretches, 
who  have  to  ride  three  or  four  hundred  miles  on  end  with- 
out stoppage  of  more  than  two  hours,  would  be  badly  off 
if  they  could  not  sleep  a  little  in  the  saddle.  This  boy 
would  have  to  go  all  the  way  to  Valencia.  It  is  the  same 
in  Seville  diligences,  which  have  a  still  longer  distance. 

I  had  made  this  wonderful  functionary's  acquaintance 
(when  we  stopped  at  Tarancon)  while  he  ate  his  beefsteak 
and  smoked.  He  was  a  sinewy  stolid  youth,  who  seemed 
to  possess  no  particular  forte  besides  his  long  endurance  in 
the  saddle,  and,  indeed,  such  a  course  of  life  is  enough  to 
turn  both  body  and  soul  into  leather.  I  should  have  said 
that  he  was  more  tough  than  witty. 

The  near  approach  to  Cuenca  is  pretty  ;  a  corner  of  the 
town  rises  on  the  rock-edge  beyond  a  picturesque  bridge. 
Crossing  the  river,  we  entered  a  long,  broad  street  in  the 
lower  town,  which  is  commonplace  enough.  Here  the 
diligence  stops  to  breakfast  at  the  Parador  de  la  Diligencia  ; 
and  as  Old  Cuenca  (the  high  town)  is  very  imperfectly 
seen  from  this  street,  many  people,  who  only  stop  to 
breakfast,  must  go  away  with  the  impression  that  the  place 
is  nothing  very  remarkable.     They  only  see  the  round  end 

312 


Cuenca 
I 

of  the  rock-perched  city,  where  it  fans  out  and  sweeps  down 
into  the  level.  They  see  nothing,  or  at  best  only  a  passing 
glimpse  of  the  least-striking  corner  of  those  precipitous 
rock-walls,  crowned  with  quaint  buildings,  which  overhang 
the  deep  ravines  on  either  side.     But  of  this  and  more  anon. 

At  the  moment,  we  neither  knew  nor  much  cared  about 
such  things,  but  rushed  into  the  Parador^  where  our  first 
thought  was  to  warm  ourselves  at  a  blazing  cedar-log  fire, 
whose  ambrosial  warmth  soon  tempered  our  principal 
grievance  to  a  level  where  our  second  thought  could  thrust 
up  its  head.  Of  course,  the  second  thought  was  breakfast. 
The  third  thought  was  a  cigar,  in  combination  with  a 
saunter  in  search  of  the  picturesque. 

We  were  in  a  more  hopeful  state  of  mind  now  ;  in  the 
sunshine,  after  a  decent  meal  of  poached  eggs  and  choco- 
late ;  but  still  we  felt  prepared  ito  be  disappointed,  after 
coming  eighteen  hours'  journey  merely  to  see  it.  However, 
we  had  not  come  so  far  without  excellent  testimonials  to 
the  meritorious  features  of  the  place  ;  Stirling,  before  I  left 
England,  Gayangos  in  Madrid,  and  Ford  in  the  Hand-book, 
were  all  eloquent  in  its  praise  ;  and  their  collective  opinion 
on  any  cosa  de  Espana  is  probably  better  worth  having  than 
that  of  any  other  three  men  living.  Still  Ronda  stuck  in 
our  gizzard,  for  a  disappointed  tourist  is  suspicious  of  com- 
mended cities.  I  think  the  scalded  dog  in  the  proverb 
would  hardly  recognise  himself  in  this  genteel  and  somewhat 
diluted  paraphrase. 

A  street  at  right  angles  to  the  one  in  which  the  Parador 
stands,  whose  houses  were  mostly  in  ruins,  led  us  to  the 
foot  of  the  city.  Instead  of  entering  the  gate  at  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  we  turned  to  the  right  up  the  narrow,  deep 
ravine,  over  which  the  quaint,  irregular  crowd  of  narrow, 
many-storied  buildings  impend,  as  if  they  had  been  jostled 


Siesta  al  Fresco 

and  elbowed  by  the  press  to  the  very  edge  of  the  dizzy 
verge,  and  were  propping  themselves  up,  as  a  temporary  but 
desperate  shift,  with  jutting  heels  and  stanchions  of  timber. 

Along  this  deep  cleft  ripples  the  crystal  Huecar,  whose 
stream  we  ascended  till  we  came  to  an  obstruction  of  rocks 
near  a  water-mill.  Managing  to  scramble  over  our  difficulty, 
we  proceeded  along  the  winding  ravine,  while  at  every  angle 
fresh  views  broke  upon  us,  and  at  each  step  we  were  more 
and  more  delighted  and  astonished  with  the  ever-varying 
wonders  of  this  truly  enchanted  city. 

A  little  further  on  appeared  the  noble  but  dilapidated 
bridge,  150  feet  high,  spanning  the  chasm  of  the  Huecar. 
Of  course  the  next  thing  was  to  get  upon  the  bridge.  The 
view  of  the  chasm,  on  either  hand,  is  very  striking.  The 
time-worn  edges  of  the  precipices  have  fallen  into  curious 
forms.  Huge  detached  crag-heads  stand  out  against  the 
sky-line  ;  the  predominant  type  of  these  rocks  bears  some 
resemblance  to  the  form  of  an  anvil,  probably  a  Vulcanic 
formation.  Here,  on  the  bridge,  we  were  arrested  by  a 
distant  plaintive  murmur  of  cathedral  music  from  above, 
and  we  climbed  into  the  town.  After  taking  a  glance  at 
the  Cathedral,  and  trying  the  Post-office  in  the  faint  hope 
of  a  letter,  we  descended  by  the  steep,  narrow  street  to  our 
Parador. 

It  was  now  about  twelve  ;  but  as  we  had  begun  the  day 
on  arriving  at  six  in  the  morning,  and  besides  had  never 
satisfactorily  finished  our  night,  we  thought  something  to 
eat  and  a  siesta  might  suit  our  case  better  than  further 
investigations  for  the  present.  Harry  retired  to  his 
mattress  ;  and  I,  thinking  it  would  be  pleasanter  to  sleep 
al  fresco^  resorted  once  more  to  the  ravine. 

It  now  became  a  matter  of  speculation  where  to  find  a 
warm  sequestered  place,  which  did  not  seem  so  easy  as  I 


My  Dream 

had  expected.  At  our  first  entry,  about  seven  in  the 
morning,  the  glen  had  been  nearly  a  monopoly,  but  now  the 
grassy  banks  of  the  Huecar  were  occupied  by  a  promiscuous 
array  of  washerwomen,  kneading,  and  dipping,  and  clapping 
a  great  variety  of  tawdry  rags. 

I  saw  nothing  for  it  but  to  climb  the  precipice  to  secure 
some  inaccessible  place  of  refuge  ;  and  about  200  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  stream,  I  lighted  on  a  little  grassy  ledge, 
before  the  mouth  of  a  small  cave.  Here,  by  disposing  my 
head  towards  the  cave,  and  my  feet  to  the  precipice,  I  could — 

"  Sans  souci  du  reveil, 
Dormir,  la  tete  a  I'ombre  et  les  pieds  au  soleil." 

I  lit  a  cigarillo  with  my  burning-glass,  and  shortly  went 
to  sleep,  while  the  distant  music  of  the  cathedral  still 
murmured  its  plaintive  lullaby. 

Shall  I  tell  you  my  dream  ?  Methought  (what  would  a 
dream  be  worth,  if  it  did  not  begin  with  methought  ?)  as  I 
lay  in  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  a  distant  trumpet's  silver 
tones  called  to  me  from  within.  I  rose  and  entered,  leaving 
the  light  of  day.  Spell-bound,  without  the  power  to  stop 
and  hesitate  whether  I  should  proceed  or  return,  I  went 
down  the  steep  declivity.  The  slope  of  the  cavern's  floor 
was  rough  and  rocky,  but  my  feet  seemed  lightened  and 
guided  by  some  onward  destiny. 

A  strange,  dim  twilight  grew  upon  the  dark — a  deep 
purple  light,  which  as  it  increased,  the  mysterious  impulse 
urging  me  forward  seemed  to  strengthen,  and  I  found  myself 
plunging  down  from  crag  to  crag  at  a  desperate  speed,  leaping 
over  great  yawning  gaps  of  apparently  impossible  width. 

And  yet  I  felt  no  fear — only  a  sort  of  dumb  and  dreamy 
wonder.  I  could  see,  as  I  flew  across  them,  that  beneath 
these  abysses  there  flowed  a  dark  torrent,  breaking  in  foam 


Pandemonium 

that  flashed  phosphorically,  like  the  foam  before  the  prow  of 
a  great  ship  plunging  through  a  midnight  sea  ;  only  that  the 
thousand  sparkles  scattered  from  this  black  surge  were  as 
large  and  bright  as  Venus  in  her  perigee. 

It  was  their  lustre  which  made  the  growing  twilight  of  1 
the  cavern,  which  I  could  now  see  arched  vaster  than  before, 
and  made  a  larger,  hoUower  echo  to  the  roaring  stream 
below.  At  length,  when  I  was  beginning  to  feel  weary  and 
my  heart  was  sinking,  I  came  to  a  hopeless  breadth  of  chasm, 
whose  further  verge  rose  perpendicular  to  the  top  of  the 
cavern.  The  light  of  the  whirling  gulf  below  showed  me, 
beneath  its  wall,  an  arch  through  which  the  tide  was  sucked 
with  a  dreadful  gurgling  tumult. 

I  could  not  pause.  I  cried,  The  end  is  come — now  we 
shall  see  what  lies  behind  the  veil.  I  did  not  fear — a  mad- 
ness possessed  alike  my  heels  and  brain.  I  sprang — a 
hissing  plunge — a  bubbling  tumult  of  waters,  and  I  felt 
myself  washed  like  a  feather  through  this  infernal  mill-race, 
expecting  every  moment  (though  with  an  unaccountable 
complacency)  to  have  my  head  split  on  some  jutting  rock. 

Before  my  breath  was  quite  exhausted  (for  from  habit  I 
had  filled  my  lungs  before  plunging  in),  I  was  rolled  out 
into  the  bosom  of  a  broad,  calm  river,  where  I  could  swim 
at  leisure.  It  was  twilight  still ;  but  I  was  now  beneath  a 
broad,  calm,  starlit  heaven — but  it  was  not  the  same  heaven, 
nor  the  stars  I  knew.  It  seemed  as  vast,  but  not  trans- 
parent— a  solid  dome,  in  which  greater  stars  were  swung 
like  lamps,  for  their  beams  were  reflected  as  it  were  on  a 
polished  vault  of  lapis  lazuli. 

This  great  vault's  rim,  like  that  of  an  inverted  bowl, 
seemed  to  rest  on  the  brow  of  that  lofty  mountain-barrier, 
beneath  whose  precipitous  wall  the  placid  river  wound,  and 
from  whose  base  spouted — through  a  round  aperture,  like  a 

316 


Liquid   Fire 


huge  sewer-mouth — the  sparkling  torrent  which  had  brought 
me  down. 

On  the  further  side  of  the  broad  river,  I  saw  a  tall 
fountain  of  rosy  fire,  beneath  what  appeared  a  temple,  whose 
great  columns  seemed  to  tremble  as  the  flickering  fountain 
rose  and  fell.  I  knew  at  once  that  this  was  my  destination, 
and  I  swam  towards  the  beacon,  breaking  the  warm,  dark 
waters  into  sparkling  ripples,  as  I  struck  out  lustily  for  the 
undiscovered  shore. 

The  quality  of  the  water  seemed  strange.  It  had  an 
ambrosial  perfume,  unlike  anything  I  have  smelt  with  waking 
nostrils  :  and  so  far  from  exhausting  or  chilling,  it  gave  a 
sort  of  prickly,  burning  glow  and  vigour  to  the  body.  Indeed, 
my  frame  appeared  to  undergo  a  change  as  I  swam.  At  last 
I  reached  the  bank — a  shore  of  shelving  flowers,  which 
seemed  like  violets  set  with  a  self-luminous  dewdrop  in  the 
centre.  In  the  midst  of  the  perfume  of  these  sweet  flowers, 
I  perceived  a  smell  of  burning. 

Startled  and  rather  alarmed,  I  found  that  all  my  clothes 
were  in  a  smouldering  state,  smoking  slightly,  and  dimly 
luminous.  I  hurriedly  began  to  undress,  but  at  the  first 
touch  the  whole  fell  oflF  like  a  husk  of  tinder  ;  and  I  cast 
the  consuming  heap  into  the  water,  where  it  shot  up  a 
small  dull  flame.  This  floated  away  in  the  languid  current 
of  the  river,  and  soon  disappeared. 

I  found  I  had  been  swimming  in  a  kind  of  liquid  fire,  which 
luckily  had  the  property  of  respecting  flesh  and  blood.  I 
lay  down  and  rolled,  like  a  horse  relieved  of  his  trappings,  in 
the  soft  and  fragrant  crush  of  jewel-spangled  flowers.  A 
drowsiness  fell  upon  me  ;  I  might  have  slept,  when  I  was 
roused  by  the  same  trumpet  call,  not  faint  as  before,  but 
ringing  a  shrill  clear  note  that  echoed  up  to  the  dark  blue 
vault,  and  seemed  to  make  the  stars  that  hung  there  tremble. 


Limited  Conversation 

I  started,  and  wading  up  the  slope  knee-deep  in  flowers, 
and  leaving  a  lustrous  line  where  my  footsteps  had  shaken 
the  fiery  dew,  I  soon  reached  the  gate  of  the  temple  I  had 
seen.  It  was  like  some  of  the  great  gateways  you  have  seen 
in  Layard's  Nineveh,  only  on  the  two  huge  granite  blocks 
on  either  side  couched  living  winged  bulls  with  ghastly, 
solemn  human  faces. 

These  rolled  their  large  fiery  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  me  ; 
still  I  advanced,  drawn  towards  the  rosy  fountain  of  flame 
which  sprang  from  the  black  marble  threshold,  and  shut  the 
whole  portal  as  with  a  broad  curtain  of  fire. 

As  my  feet  touched  the  first  step  of  the  great  black 
marble  flight,  both  these  beasts  rose  slowly  and  spread  their 
wide  wings  across  the  entrance,  and  looking  down  upon  me 
with  a  very  sinister  expression,  spoke  in  an  awful  voice 
which  sounded  like  the  roaring  of  a  mighty  furnace.  The 
one  on  the  right  hand  said — 

"MENE-MENE!" 

And  the  one  on  the  left  hand — 

"TEKEL   UPHARSIN  !" 

The  beasts  were  probably  aware  that  the  phrase  they  thus 
cut  in  two  was  all  I  should  probably  understand  of  the 
Assyrian  tongue,  and  so  made  the  most  of  it.  I  replied  at 
once  to  the  beast  on  the  right  hand — 

"WAALEYCOM   ESSALAM," 

And  to  the  one  on  the  left — 

"BISMILLAHIRRAHMAN    IRRAHIM;" 


The   Fiery  Veil 


which  pious  and  polite  salutations  seemed  to  striice  them 
with  a  terrible  horror,  for  a  pang  of  torture  twitched  the 
solemn  features,  and  they  trembled  violently,  making  a 
rustling  sound  with  their  quivering  pinions,  like  the 
rustling  of  a  great  palm-tree  when  the  simoon  is  on  the 
desert. 

Beneath  these  awful  wings  I  stood  and  watched  the 
flame.  It  sunk  a  little,  and  left  a  space  of  darkness  at  the 
top  of  the  doorway,  in  which  the  sparks  hovered  like 
stars  in  the  mirror  of  a  flowing  river.  These  star-like 
sparks  were  gathered  like  wild  geese  in  the  sky,  and  fell 
into  the  form  of  successive  characters  one  after  another. 

K 

n 
n 

When  it  came  to  the  Lamed^  no  more  letters  were  formed, 
and  the  flame  rose  to  the  top  of  the  doorway  again.  I  was 
aware  that  the  word  which  had  been  spelt  means  ENTER 
in  the  Chaldaic. 

It  seemed  a  dangerous  enterprise  to  go  into  this  flaming 
fiery  furnace,  but  I  remembered  the  quality  of  the  water, 
and  had  an  impression  that  I  was  someway  seasoned  against 
burning  ;  moreover,  the  trumpet  sounded  again  behind  the 
veil,  and  in  I  dashed,  not  without  a  vague  suspicion  that  I 
might  be  converting  myself  into  a  dish  of  broiled  bones  to 
make  a  meal  for  some  winged-lion  fiend  inside. 

I  got  safe  through,  however,  without  a  hair  of  my  head 
being  singed,  and  found  myself  in  a  vast  circular  court, 
crystal-floored  and  surrounded  by  a  lofty  peristyle  of 
gleaming  golden  columns.  In  the  centre,  a  great  fountain 
cast  up  a  glowing  volume  of  what  seemed  like  molten  silver. 


The  Spirit  of  Sleep 

Below  was  a  broad  golden  basin,  sunk  in  the  floor,  in 
which  the  falling  fluid  tumbled  and  seethed  as  molten  silver 
does  in  the  primrose  heat  of  a  crucible.  Before  the  foun- 
tain, on  an  ebon  throne,  sat  a  swarthy  giant  with  dark 
folded  wings  ;  he  was  crowned  and  zoned  with  gold,  and  in 
his  hand  he  held  a  golden  trumpet,  which,  as  I  entered,  he 
raised  to  his  lips  ;  but  just  as  I  was  preparing  to  be  effec- 
tually deafened,  I  heard  a  gentle  dreamy  voice  from  behind 
the  fountain  call  my  name. 

I  passed  the  giant's  throne,  and  going  round  the  fountain, 
saw  that  in  a  channel  flowing  from  the  central  basin  a 
shadowy  shallop  rocked  upon  the  glowing  stream. 

It  was  not  moored,  and  would  have  drifted  away  through 
an  arch  opposite  my  entrance,  but  on  its  prow  there  stood 
a  dark  maiden  with  a  silver  paddle,  with  which  she  kept  its 
head  against  the  current.  Her  eyelids  drooped,  her  form 
was  beautiful,  but  dark  as  night,  and  darker  still  than  night 
the  flowing  hair  contrasted  with  the  loosely  flowing  robe  of 
snowy  w^hite  ;  and  robe  and  hair  floated  around  her  listless 
arms,  she  stooping  down  upon  her  weary  toil. 

She  said,  nor  raised  her  eyes,  "  I  wait  for  thee.  Come  !  " 
And  I  entered  and  sat  down  ;  and  she  sat  down  beside  me, 
and  said,  "I  am  weary,"  and  threw  her  languid  arms  around 
me,  and  pillowed  her  drowsy  head  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
clothed  me  with  her  wealth  of  raven  tresses. 

Meanwhile,  our  boat  sprang  forward  through  the  arch — 
away — down  the  rapid  stream  of  fire. 

But  where  we  came  to  at  last,  and  what  we  saw  by  the 
way,  I  will  not  relate,  at  least  for  the  present,  for  fear  of 
being  tedious  ;  for  I  am  tired  of  relating  my  dream,  and 
there  is  a  hopeless  quantity  more  of  it,  enough,  indeed,  if  I 
told  it  now,  to  smother  the  whole  description  of  Cuenca 
and  its  environs. 

320 


Huecar  and  Jucar 

Therefore,  with  your  permission,  I  shall  abruptly  wake 
at  once. 

On  getting  up,  and  shaking  my  clothes  and  faculties  into 
their  proper  places,  I  found  my  seclusion  had  not  been  so 
perfect  as  I  supposed.  A  knot  of  soldiers  had  gathered  on 
a  path-ledge  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  glen  (which,  though 
so  deep,  was  only  fifty  or  sixty  yards  across),  who  seemed 
to  be  pointing  me  out  and  observing  on  my  motions,  as  if 
they  considered  me  some  troglodyte  animal,  in  a  grey  frieze 
coat,  who  had  crept  out  of  the  caverns  to  bask  in  the 
sunshine. 

I  descended  from  my  rocky  perch,  and  retracing  my  steps 
to  where  the  Huecar  debouches  from  its  chasm,  crossed  the 
foot  of  the  town,  and  wandered  up  the  Jucar  glen  at  the 
other  side.  This  is  as  abrupt  and  striking  as  the  former, 
but  a  thought  wider,  and  watered  by  a  much  more  copious 
stream  :  at  first  a  deep  dark-green  mirror  reflecting  the 
crag-perched  city  which  overhangs  it,  but  higher  up  it 
boils  and  whirls  among  protruding  rocks  and  in  deep 
pools. 

By  the  northern  margin  of  the  stream,  a  charming  wooded 
and  swarded  walk  beneath  the  precipice  led  me  to  a  wooden 
bridge,  after  crossing  which  I  still  kept  on  following  the 
other  bank,  under  the  impression  that  some  path  would 
shortly  occur  to  lead  me  back  to  the  town.  I  found  none, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  two  glens  must  meet 
further  up,  and  so  went  along  still  as  far  as  that  idea  would 
support  my  patience.  When  I  had  come  in  sight  of  some 
gardens  beneath  the  clifF,  and  perceived  that  the  glen 
turned  rather  the  wrong  way,  as  the  day  was  now  hot  and 
nobody  in  sight,  I  undressed,  and  bathed  in  a  clear  whirling 
pool. 

Being  now  refreshed  and  cool,  it  struck  me  that  it  would 

321 


A  Scramble 

be  a  humiliating  alternative  to  turn  back.  I  therefore 
adopted  the  imprudent,  but  exciting  course,  of  scaling  the 
precipice  directly  opposite  the  spot  which  I  had  accidentally 
come  to.  It  looked  very  pretty  climbing,  but  on  experi- 
ment I  found  it  difficult  to  make  a  start  up  the  first  perpen- 
dicular twenty  or  thirty  feet,  which  was  so  ticklish  work 
that  it  effectually  cut  off  my  retreat ;  for  as  one  has  not 
any  eyes  in  one's  heels,  it  is  much  more  difficult  to  climb 
down  than  up.  I  therefore,  as  in  prudence  bound,  now 
launched  in  my  difficulty,  crawled  slowly  and  carefully  up  a 
wrinkle  in  the  rock's  face. 

It  was  all  so  hazardous  for  three  hundred  feet  or  so,  that 
the  slightest  slip  would  have  rolled  me  away  to  perdition. 
I  began  to  be  seriously  alarmed,  for  I  felt  sure  that  if  I 
came  to  actual  impossibilities  further  up,  I  should  very 
improbably  be  able  to  get  down  again  alive.  I  was  espe- 
cially afraid  of  a  great  tuft  of  brambles  which  blocked  up 
my  wrinkle,  and  was  very  hard  to  get  over.  My  footing 
was  not  improved  in  safety  by  my  having  on  an  old  pair 
of  dress-boots  which  had  danced  through  a  season  on  the 
polished  floors  of  the  metropolis,  and  were  very  slippery- 
soled.  But  it  is  no  use  to  try  to  make  one's  own  dangers 
exciting  in  the  narration.  Like  all  other  narrators  of  hair- 
breadth escapes,  I  got  to  the  top,  the  reaching  of  which,  I 
assure  you,  caused  me  a  very  pleasurable  sensation. 

There  certainly  is  a  luxury  in  danger.     The  mind  enjoys ' 
excitement    too  much  to  be  particular  as  to  whether  the| 
excitement    is  for  the    moment  pleasurable  or  painful.     Ii 
certainly  don't  think  it  is  a  pleasant  sensation  to  be  afraid  ; 
and  yet  I  know  by  experience,  that  since  the  time  when  I 
could  walk  across  a   gate,  whether  there  was  anybody  to 
look  on  or  not,  it  has  always  been  a  sort  of  instinct  with ' 
me  to  do  those  things  which  engender  fear. 

322 


Luxury  of  Danger 


The  suspense,  while  you  are  in  the  scrape,  is  perhaps 
about  evenly  balanced  by  the  consciousness  of  skill  which 
wrestles  with  the  difficulty  ;  but  when  one  is  fairly  through, 
one  congratulates  one's  self  so  cordially,  and  common  earth 
seems  such  a  luxury  to  one's  feet  ;  besides  a  certain  rebel- 
lious triumph  over  the  detracting  whisper  of  Prudence,  who 
certainly  has  the  best  of  the  argument,  when  to  Rashness 
making  the  boast,  "  I  have  done  it  !  "  she  answers — "  Yes  ! 
but  you  had  no  business  to  try." 

But  how  very  flat  the  world  would  be  if  one  only  did 
what  one  has  any  business  to  do.  I  never  had  such  a  climb 
since  a  pleasant  precipice  at  Niagara,  nine  years  ago,  when 
I  was  seventeen,  and  had  very  near  as  much  of  the  better 
part  of  valour  as  at  present. 

Now  that  I  was  at  the  top,  I  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a 
broad  mass  of  rock  overhanging  the  precipice,  which  fell 
away  about  200  feet  in  a  plumb-line.  Between  this  and 
another  similar  rock-head  was  the  fissure,  whose  irregu- 
larities of  surface  had  been  the  rounds  of  my  ladder.  Below 
lay  huge  lumps,  forty  or  fifty  feet  square,  which  had  fallen 
off  the  brow  in  ages  past. 

In  the  narrow  glen  below,  the  edges  of  the  precipice  on 
either  side  had  formed  the  horizon  :  but  from  the  height  to 
which  I  had  climbed,  I  now  saw  that  from  the  brow  above 
the  abrupt  crags,  sloped  back  a  considerable  forehead  of 
rugged  mountain,  sprinkled  with  great  boulder-stones,  many 
of  which  had  apparently  rolled  down  to  the  very  verge,  and 
been  hesitating  for  centuries  whether  to  go  over  or  not. 
The  foamy  Jucar  roaring  through  its  rocks,  500  feet  below 
I  me,  made  a  pleasant  solemn  murmur  in  the  still  windless 
abyss,  which  began  to  darken  down  below,  as  the  sun 
declined  towards  the  mountain-flank. 

When    the    blood    is    heated,    and     the    mind    excited 

323  X 


Las  Piedras   Encantadas 

by  climbing,  you  enjoy  the  beauties  of  scenery  much 
more  than  when  a  steamboat  or  a  diligence  carries  you 
lazily  by. 

After  I  had  made  the  most  of  these  sensations  and 
reflections,  and  taken  my  breath,  with  a  slight  admixture 
of  tobacco-smoke,  I  crossed  the  narrow  neck  of  the  rock- 
isthmus,  and  looked  back  upon  the  city,  and  down  upon  the 
Huecar  glen,  from  a  brow  of  the  precipice  which  we  had 
seen  from  the  bridge.  We  had  remarked  the  spot  from 
the  appearance  of  something  like  a  ruined  building  in  the 
face  of  the  rock,  though  in  the  distance  we  could  not 
assure  ourselves  that  it  was  not  one  of  the  fantastic  natural 
formations  in  which  these  very  singular  crags  abound. 
It  turned  out  to  be  the  front  wall  of  the  lower  story  of  a 
house  built  down  a  chip  in  the  edge  of  the  clifF,  which 
tenement,  having  probably  tottered  on  the  brink  to  an 
extreme  old  age,  had  at  length  fallen  over. 

Returning  to  the  Parador^  I  found  Harry  had  returned 
from  making  a  sketch  in  the  Huecar  glen. 

While  he  was  sketching,  a  man  had  come  up,  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  him  about  the  pictur- 
esque, who  said  that  Cuenca  was  nothing  compared  with 
another  place  in  the  hills,  about  three  leagues  off,  called 
Las  Piedras  Encantadas  (the  enchanted  stones).  The 
name  struck  our  fancy,  and  we  resolved  to  go,  being 
not  at  all  discouraged  by  the  dissuasion  of  a  man  at  the 
Parador^  who  said  it  was  a  bad  place — nada  digna  de  verse 
(nothing  worth  seeing) — only  rocks  and  pine-trees. 

The  director  of  the  diligence,  a  polite  caballero^  whose 
bureau  is  in  the  Parador^  and  who  fraternised  with  us  at 
breakfast,  informed  us  that  Piedras  Encantadas  was  a  nice 
place  in  z  paisage  muy  Undo  (pretty  scenery),  also  that  there 
were  good  shooting  and  fishing.     Our  best  way,  he  said, 

324 


Means  of  Conveyance 

would  be  to  find  some  of  the  Val  de  Cabras  people,  who 
come  down  daily  with  loads  of  firewood,  and  they  would  take 
us  back  for  a  trifle  on  their  discharged  mules.  We  dined, 
and  went  to  bed  early,  in  consideration  of  our  last  night's 
want  of  sleep  in  the  diligence. 


325 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  we  went  out,  accompanied 
by  the  polite  diligence-director.  In  the  market-place  of  the 
high  town  he  stopped  two  sturdy  damsels,  browned  and 
blowzed  as  to  their  complexions,  with  dark  flowing  tresses  || 
and  sparkling  eyes.  These  maidens  were  leading  a  long  string 
of  mules  and  asses  charged  with  faggots.  They  agreed  to  call 
for  us  at  two  o'clock,  and  carry  us  back  to  Val  de  Cabras. 

In  the  mean  time  we  continued  our  walk.  Passing 
through  the  gate  of  the  ruined  fortress  which  guards  the 
narrow  neck  of  the  rock-plateau,  and  forms  the  upper 
entrance  into  Cuenca,  we  turned  to  the  left,  and  found  a 
winding-path  which  led  us  down  into  the  glen  of  the  Jucar. 
Here  we  bathed,  and  on  our  return  at  two  o'clock  found  the 
damsels  with  their  caballerias  waiting  in  the  court  of  the 
Parador. 

We  entreated  them  in  vain  to  allow  us  to  give  them 
something  to  drink.  They  had  three  mules  and  a  donkey 
tied  in  a  string.  I  mounted  the  first,  and  Harry  the  second. 
The  tallest  and  comeliest  of  our  arrieras  took  the  halter  of 
mine, — the  other  brought  up  the  rear  with  a  switch,  to 
encourage  loiterers  to  keep  up  their  pace.  In  this  peculiar 
sort  of  procession  we  passed  along  the  great  street,  emerged 
from  the  town  where  we  first  entered  it  in  the  diligence, 
turned  down  below  the  arches  of  the  bridge,  and  followed 
the  banks  of  Jucar. 

326 


Order  of  March 

When  we  had  got  some  little  way  beyond  my  bathing- 
place  of  the  morning,  and  a  bend  in  the  ravine  had  shut  out 
the  last  of  the  towering  heights  of  Cuenca,  our  young  ladies 
thought  fit  to  dissolve  the  tie  which  bound  us,  and  we  were 
permitted  to  direct  and  manage  our  several  animals  as  best 
we  could  by  admonitory  flicks  over  the  head  and  ears  with 
our  halter-ends.  Thus  we  threaded  our  way,  riding  two  and 
two  (for  our  fair  guides  had  also  mounted)  along  the  narrow 
path,  winding  in  and  out  among  the  huge  masses  of  fallen 
rocks  between  the  echoing  precipice  and  the  murmuring  river. 
I  rode  by  the  side  of  my  original  conductress.  Some 
introductory  conversation  ensued.  Her  name  was  Facunda  ; 
the  other  was  not  her  sister,~but  her  cousin, — she  was  called 
Casta.  They  did  not  live  in  the  same  house, — Casta  lived 
over  the  way,  Casta's  house  was  a  posada — not  a  regular 
posada,  but  guests  could  be  received.  She  was  not  married, 
nor  would  confess  a  novio  (sweetheart).  She  had  not  yet 
been  told  her  eyes  were  beautiful,  nor  was  altogether  pre- 
pared to  believe  it  now. 

We  overtook  other  villagers,  and  our  cavalcade  soon 
amounted  to  about  forty  animals — horses,  mules,  and  asses, 
— mostly  mounted  by  young  women  and  little  girls.  There 
were,  however,  two  old  women,  a  man,  and  two  boys.  The 
party  reached  these  final  dimensions  when,  about  a  league 
from  Cuenca,  the  glen  widened  out  into  a  fair  green  valley. 
Here  the  driving  of  those  beasts  which  were  not  mounted 
caused  some  diversion,  and  some  of  the  young  ladies  fell  off 
now  and  then  in  the  pursuit  of  pervicacious  donkeys  who 
diverged  into  the  green  barley. 

It  was  a  merry  party,  and  we  rode  promiscuously  among 
them,  saying  all  the  fine  things  we  could  make  intelligible — 
and,  indeed,  more  ;  for  their  language  was  a  rough  country 
dialect,  and  they  could  not  keep  up  with  our  florid  classical 


Val  de  Cabras 

style  of  complimentary  dialogue,  which  was  principally 
modelled  on  Don  Quixote's  conversations  with  princesses 
and  shepherdesses.  Nevertheless,  they  took  it  all  as  a 
compliment,  and  laughed  as  much  as  if  they  understood  all 
our  best  jokes  and  sublimest  metaphors. 

There  was  none  of  the  party  who,  in  my  eyes,  eclipsed  the 
charms  of  my  original  Facunda  ;  but  Harry,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  proved  faithless  to  his  Casta,  who  being  mounted  on  a 
slow  donkey,  rather  lagged  behind  :  but  I  did  not  see  that 
he  bettered  himself  greatly  ;  and,  indeed,  to  say  the  truth, 
any  three  of  the  whole  party  might  have  sat  for  the  portraits 
of  those  feas  aldeanas  ^  whom  Sancho  persuaded  his  master 
to  believe  beauteous  princesses. 

The  road  now  turned  to  the  right,  and  leaving  the  broad 
valley  of  the  Jucar,  entered  a  narrow,  picturesque  defile, 
watered  by  a  smaller  tributary  stream.  Great  pines,  which 
had  planted  themselves  in  the  clefts  and  ledges  of  its  rocky 
walls,  waved  their  dark  arms  overhead,  and  here  and  there 
the  surrounding  mountains  lifted  their  lofty  eaves  into  our 
narrow-bounded  horizon. 

The  ravine  widened,  and  along  the  expanding  valley  we 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Val  de  Cabras  through  the  pines.  Our, 
party's  spirits  rose  higher  and  higher  as  they  approached] 
their  hearths  and  ollas  ;  and  the  motley  rout,  amid  muchj 
clatter  of  tongues,  and  laughter,  and  snatches  of  songs, 
entered   the  little  village  about  sunset. 

Casta  had  assured  us  that  her  house  was  amply  provided! 
with  all  things  ;  but  we  knew  the  specious  hay  de  todo  (there! 
is  of  everything)  too  well,  and  insisted  on  the  maiden's  taking 
a  dishful  of  cold  mutton-chops  from  the  Parador.  These  had 
been  wrapped  in  a  rag,  and  stowed  in  their  alforjas^  and  the) 
came  in  well  at  our  supper  ;  for  the  house  only  possessed! 
'  Ugly  villageresses. 
328 


The  Hon.   Robert  Dundas   Murray 

eggs  and  salad,  though  there  were  immense  quantities  of 
handsome  pots  and  pans  hanging  in  burnished  array  round 
the  kitchen. 

Our  hostess  was  obliging  and  unsophisticated,  but  garru- 
lous to  an  extent  that  impeded  the  supper. 

"  So  you  are  countrymen  of  Don  Roberto  ?  Don  Roberto 
dwelt  here  for  some  weeks.  Probably  these  gentlemen  have 
been  recommended  to  our  house  by  Don  Roberto.  Senores, 
are  you  acquainted  with  Don  Roberto  ?  " 

"  Caramba  !  Senora  huespeda^  quien  sabe  (who  knows)  ? 
Will  you  please  to  be  quick  with  the  salad  ?  There  are  at 
least  five  hundred  thousand  Don  Robertos  in  England  uno 
mas  inconocido  que  otro  (one  more  unknown  than  the  other)  ; 
and  unless  you  know  his  other  name,  como  se  puede  averiguar 
(how  can  it  be  verified)  ?  " 

"  His  worship's  apellido  (surname)  was  Duendasy  was  it 
not,  Pedrillo  ?  "  referring  to  her  nephew,  who  sat  smoking 
in  the  corner.  "  Pedrillo,  gentlemen,  guided  his  worship 
about  the  country  ;  and  who  knows  but  he  would  have 
taken  Pedrillo  back  to  England,  only  Pedrillo  would  not 
leave  his  novia  (sweetheart)  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  was  called  Don  Roberto  Duendas  de  Monroy, 
and  I  used  to  go  with  him  to  fish  and  shoot.  Don  Ro- 
berto was  muy  aficionado  a  la  caza  (a  great  sportsman), 
and  carried  an  escopet  (musket)  of  the  richest,  with  two 
strokes." 

"  Don  Roberto  was  buen  mozo  (a  handsome  youth)," 
continued  the  landlady,  "  muy  guapo  y  libera/  (very  pretty 
and  generous)  ;  we  all  loved  him,  and  were  sorry  when 
he  went  away ;  and  we  love  all  Englishmen  for  his 
sake." 

"  If  you  love  us,  don't  talk  so  much,  most  affable  of  hos- 
tesses, but  use  your  endeavours  to  bring   the  supper   to  a 

329 


Evening  Party  and   Morning  Call 

head,  for,  rntra  Vmd.  (look  you),  while  your  tongue  is  danc- 
ing our  teeth  are  standing  still." 

"  CachazOy  hijo  (patience,  my  son)  ;  pierda  Vmd.  cuidado 
(may  your  worship  be  relieved  of  solitude)."  And  then 
she  would  return  to  her  chattering  about  Don  Roberto. 

During  the  interval  before  supper  was  ready,  the  fair 
Facunda  paid  us  a  visit,  and  said  that  she  hoped  we  should 
be  comfortable,  and  that  her  house  was  at  our  disposition 
whenever  it  pleased  us  to  honour  it.  I  said  I  would  do 
myself  the  honour  of  paying  her  an  evening  visit  after 
supper.  She  sat  there  knitting  a  stocking,  and,  by  way  of 
diversion,  I  knitted  a  ^^'h  rounds,  which  created  a  proper 
degree  of  astonishment.  When  she  departed,  I  told  stories 
to  the  children  about  little  boys  lost  in  the  mountains,  and 
distressed  by  lions,  and  tigers,  and  wild  bulls,  and  rescued 
by  fairies  in  winged  cars  drawn  by  media  docena  mariposas 
(half  a  dozen  butterflies)  :  but  at  last  the  supper  was  ready. 
We  ate  ravenously,  and  immediately  after  became  very 
sleepy  over  our  pipes.  Harry  judiciously  went  to  bed  at 
once  ;  but  I,  with  a  lingering  intention  of  going  to  pay  my 
visit  over  the  way,  if  I  could  wake  up  enough  at  any  future 
period,  dozed  in  the  chimney-corner  till  it  was  too  late, 
and  then  waking  up,  wrote  my  journal,  and  went  to  bed. 

Next  morning,  Sunday,  we  had  arranged  to  ride  up  to 
the  Piedras  Encantadas,  a  league  up  among  the  hills  ;  but 
after  breakfast,  while  the  mules  were  being  caught,  which 
caused  an  unforeseen  delay,  I  went  and  made  a  morning  call 
over  the  way. 

The  beauteous  Facunda  was  dressed  for  mass,  and  was 
coifing  her  little  sisters  for  the  same  occasion.  It  was  an 
irregular,  dark  interior,  with  nooks  and  chimney-corners 
something  like  a  Highland  bothy,  only  larger.  In  one 
corner  of  the  chimney  lay  an  old  bedridden  grandsire,  to 


Abou-Kizeb   Again 

whom  I  presented  a  cigar.  After  a  while  Casta  came  to 
say  the  mules  were  ready,  and  we  set  oflF,  accompanied  by 
the  old  posadero  and  Facunda's  father. 

Riding  along  the  valley,  we  came  to  a  zig-zag  path,  by 
which  we  ascended  the  mountain.  Facunda's  father 
attended  me.  He  was  a  striking,  picturesque  man,  with 
long  black  hair  curling  down  to  his  shoulders.  A  broad 
and  nobly-cut  brow,  fringed  with  shaggy  eyebrows, 
overhung  serious,  deep-set  eyes.  He  was  dressed  in  black 
sheepskin.  Altogether  his  appearance  was  calculated 
to  produce  a  sensation  on  the  Adelphi  boards  in  the 
character  of  an  unfortunate  monarch  in  the  disguise  of 
a  shepherd. 

I  naturally  supposed  he  would  be  a  character  of  some 
sort,  and  took  pains  to  beat  about  for  original  sayings  and 
local  traditions  ;  but  I  could  get  nothing  out  of  him.  He 
was  not  sulky,  but  simply  dull,  and  afforded  one  more 
confirmation  to  the  axiom,  that  "appearances  are  often 
deceitful." 

Finding  I  could  elicit  nothing,  out  of  benevolence  to 
future  travellers  who  might  make  the  same  inquiries,  I 
thought  fit  to  lay  the  foundations  of  a  tradition  myself. 
So  I  told  him  that  the  Piedras  Encantadas  were  mentioned 
in  an  ancient  manuscript,  Las  Cronicas  de  los  Reyes  Moros^ 
written  in  the  Arabic  language  by  el  sabio  Abou-kizeb. 

By  this  account  it  appeared,  that  a  certain  sultan,  called 
Faseq  el  Mesquin,  reigned  very  wickedly  over  a  tract  of 
country  from  Catalayud  to  Albacete,  and  from  Tuejar  to 
Guadalajara. 

This  malignant  potentate  was  favoured  and  abetted  in  his 
cruelty  and  crimes  by  certain  evil  spirits  called  chinnes  and 
dfritos^  who  constructed  for  him  a  magnificent  city  of 
palaces   and   towers,  and   alcaz.ares^  with   prisons  and   deep 


The  Christian  Sultana 

dark  dungeons  underground,  where  he  kept  many  of 
his  oppressed  subjects  in  great  torture  and  anguish.  He 
had  many  wives  and  an  immense  miscellaneous  seraglio. 
One  of  his  favourite  slaves  was  a  captive  Christian  lady, 
the  daughter  of  a  knight  in  Burgos,  and  affianced  to  a 
caballero  muy  principal  of  Valencia. 

On  her  journey  thither,  she  had  been  taken.  From  her 
virtues  and  prudence  she  soon  acquired  a  considerable 
influence  over  Faseq  ;  so  much  so  that  his  principal  astro- 
loger and  ambassador  at  the  court  of  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness grew  jealous  of  her,  and  began  to  entertain  serious 
fears  that  she  might  convert  the  wicked  old  man,  in  his 
dotage,  to  become  a  Christian.  What  the  astrologer  cared 
for  more  than  this,  was  the  danger  that  her  son  Cuenc  el 
Salahyn  might  be  named  successor  to  the  sultanic  divan. 

Cuenc  was  the  favourite  son  of  the  old  king,  and  it  was 
strongly  suspected  that  his  mother  (called  Abiadah  by  the 
Moors,  though  her  real  name  was  Blanca)  had  made  him  a 
Christian  already.  Indeed,  it  is  now  ascertained  that  she 
prayed  daily  during  her  pregnancy  to  the  blessed  Virgin 
that  no  pagan  might  be  born  of  her. 

Cuenc  was  in  every  respect  the  reverse  of  his  father,  but 
the  old  man  was  proud  of  him,  for  he  was  the  best  horse- 
man in  the  realm,  and  could  throw  a  spear  more  than  three 
hundred  varas  (so  says  the  historian,  whose  statement,  how- 
ever, I  can  scarcely  credit)  ;  besides  which,  he  was  so  gentle 
and  amiable,  by  the  peculiar  favour  of  the  Virgin,  that 
those  who  saw  him  could  not  help  loving  him. 

The  chief  astrologer,  dreading  the  ascendancy  of  the 
young  prince,  caused  an  afrito  to  appear  to  the  king  in  a 
bloody  dream,  holding  a  sword  in  one  hand  and  a  golden 
bowl  of  clotted  blood  in  the  other.  He  thus  addressed  the 
terrified  old  pecador  in  awful  accents  : — 


A  Catastrophe 


"  Choose,  oh  king  !  Here  is  thy  sword  to  slay.  Here 
is  thine  own  gore  to  spill.  Treachery  lurks  within  thy 
doors  ;  and  a  son  of  thy  loins,  whom  thou  least  suspectest, 
goeth  about  to  slay  thee.  I  may  not  tell  thee  his  name. 
But  he  warned — farewell." 

The  cunning  astrologer,  Ar if  el  Cauaqueb,  had  justly  cal- 
culated on  the  cruel  disposition  of  King  Faseq.  He,  with- 
out more  ado,  not  knowing  which  of  his  sons  might  be  the 
culprit,  slew  them  all.  But  the  Virgin,  who  had  not  been 
idle  durino-  these  diabolical  transactions,  sent  a  messenger 
to  Abiadah,  in  a  dream  simultaneous  with  the  king's,  warn- 
ing her  to  fly  with  her  son;  which  she  accordingly  did  before 
daybreak,  and  came  to  a  cave  in  the  rocks  between  the  Jucar 
and  the  Huecar,  which  were  then  bare  and  solitary,  without 
any  habitation  of  man. 

The  king,  with  his  astrologer,  was  preparing  to  search  the 
whole  region,  when  the  vengeance  of  Heaven  overtook 
them.  It  rained  a  shower  of  flame  on  the  wicked  city, 
which  smelted  the  very  stones  together,  sealing  up  Faseq 
and  Arif,  with  all  their  infamous  company  of  evil  spirits,  in 
the  molten  ruins.  But  yet  it  is  said  that  one  may  trace 
the  lines  of  the  streets  running  between  great  masses 
of  crumbling  rock  which  seem  to  have  been  blocks  of 
building. 

As  to  Cuenc  and  his  mother,  after  this  catastrophe,  they 
gathered  their  subjects  together  and  built  the  city  of 
Cuenca  on  the  rock  beneath  which  they  had  taken  shelter 
in  their  flight. 

"  I  never  yet  heard  this  history,"  said  my  companion, 
"  and  it  seems  indeed  too  strange  to  be  credible  ;  but  in 
some  points  it  is  verisimilar,  for  the  lines  of  the  streets  may 
be  traced,  and  it  is  sometimes  called  the  Ciudad  encantada^ 
from  its  resemblance  to  the  form  of  a  city." 

333 


La  Ciudad  Encantada 

About  half-way  up  the  zig-zag  path  by  which  we  were 
ascending  the  mountain,  there  was  a  huge  block  of  stone 
which  had  fallen  from  the  impending  clifF.  It  was  some- 
thing like  the  size  and  shape  of  a  great  whale,  about  sixty 
feet  long,  and  twenty-five  high  in  the  round  of  its  back.  We 
inquired  about  it,  and  the  old  posadero  said  that  it  was 
called  the  pi edr a  d-e  las  almas^  because  it  had  fallen  at  the 
vesper-time  of  las  almas.  It  fell  in  the  year  1797,  and  he 
remembered  the  tremendous  noise  it  made  in  the  glen.  He 
was  a  lad  at  the  time,  and  was  out  with  his  father  cutting 
wood. 

On  the  top  of  the  hill  we  entered  a  large  pine  forest, 
among  which,  here  and  there,  great  rocks  began  to  appear  ; 
and  at  length  we  reached  an  open  space,  beyond  which 
stood  several  heavy-headed  stones  about  thirty  feet  high, 
set  upon  narrow  necks,  and  looking  something  like  clumsy 
columns.  Our  guides  told  us  this  was  the  beginning  of  the 
enchanted  city.     We  shortly  entered  it. 

It  is  composed  of  long  ranges  of  generally  perpendicular 
rock,  thirty  or  forty  feet  high,  between  which  are  narrow 
lanes  of  green  closely-cropped  sward.  Sheep  and  shepherds 
are  the  city's  only  inhabitants.  Here  and  there  the  lanes 
narrowed,  and  the  leaning  walls  joined  over-head  like  a  rude 
gateway.  Here  and  there,  too,  were  heavy-headed  projec- 
tions from  the  walls,  which  bore  some  remote  resemblance 
to  clumsy  Egyptian  pilasters. 

Still,  after  hunting  up  and  down  the  grassy  streets  of  the 
labyrinth  for  a  spacious  point  of  view,  I  found  nothing  which 
could  pass,  when  drawn,  for  a  street,  in  even  the  most  ante- 
Cheopsean  style  of  architecture.  In  hopes  of  a  more  exten- 
sive prospect,  and  being  moreover  stimulated  by  Harry's 
surmising  that  it  could  not  be  done,  I  climbed  one  of  the  rock 
walls,  which  being  of  a  honey-combed,  sponge-like  surface 

334 


The   Shepherd's  Clock 

aflforded  good  hand  and  foot  hold,  though  at  the  outset  it 
leaned  over  a  little,  which  gave  the  experiment  a  certain  air 
of  difficulty. 

The  tops  are  mostly  of  the  same  level,  and  were  varied 
only  by  occasional  pines  and  cedars  lifting  their  heads  above 
the  alleys. 

It  would  be  an  admirable  place  for  pic-nics ;  and  the  cool 
shady  lanes  seem  made  for  loving  loiterers  to  lose  their  way 
among,  when  pigeon-pie  and  champagne  have  a  little 
obfuscated  their  notions  of  locality. 

Emerging  from  the  city,  we  met  in  the  piny  suburbs  a 
venerable  shepherd  with  flowing  silver  hair.  His  hut  was 
near  at  hand,  an  J  as  we  were  hungry,  he  gave  us  to  eat  of  a 
sort  of  cake  resembling  the  broad  bakstones  of  Yorkshire. 
We  in  return  presented  him  with  cigarillos. 

We  wanted  to  know  what  time  it  was,  and  after  a  careful 
observation  of  the  sun's  altitude,  he  assured  us  with  con- 
fidence it  was  half-past  eleven.  "  Pues  el  cielo  es  su  reloj, 
muy  cuerdo  tiene  Vmd.  su  relojero,  que  no  se  engafien 
horoscopos  de  su  hechura."* 

On  our  return  to  Val  de  Cabras,  we  dined  magnificently 
on  a  roasted  kid,  and  a  kind  of  fritters,  made  of  crumbs 
moulded  in  little  lumps  with  egg  and  sugar,  fried  in  oil,  and 
served  with  wine  sauce.  They  were  very  good — better  than 
our  English  sample  of  Spanish  fritters.  After  dinner,  Don 
Roberto's  guide  conducted  us  home  to  Cuenca,  that  he  might 
bring  back  our  mules.  On  our  way  we  bathed  in  the  Jucar 
where  it  enters  the  gorge,  and  arrived  about  sunset. 

Next  day  we  returned  to  Madrid  in  the  interior  of  the 
diligence,  which  was  nearly  as  much  too  hot  as  the  banqueta 

*  Since  the  heaven  is  your  dial,  your  worship  has  an  excellent 
clockmaker ;  for  time-pieces  of  his  workmanship  are  never  out 
of  order. 

335 


A  Real  Robbery 

was  too  cold.  But  heat  is  the  better  fault  of  the  two.  One 
of  our  companions  was  a  gay  and  voluble  young  Murcian, 
coming  to  Madrid  to  show  his  lately-married  wife  the  wonders 
of  La  Corte.  He  told  us  many  amusing  stories  ;  among 
others  a  history  of  his  being  robbed,  which,  as  we  have  not 
been  robbed  ourselves,  I  will  give  you  as  a  sample. 

"  Puesy  Sefiores,  the  casualty  was  in  this  manner.  We 
were  a  party  of  three.  Our  journey  was  towards  Caravaca. 
One  of  my  companions  was  the  old  capataz  (factor)  of  a 
friend  of  mine.  He  was  bringing  up  the  rents  of  a  small 
estate  in  the  vicinity  of  Moratalla.  We  had  one  rusty  old 
escopety  which  was  not  loaded.  But,  to  say  the  truth,  we 
had  no  idea  of  being  robbed.  Salta  la  liehre  de  donde  menos 
se  aspetaha  (the  hare  starts  where  she  is  least  expected), 
and  as  we  had  just  passed  the  river  Segura,  they  leapt  out 
of  the  bushes,  and  pounced  upon  us  unawares. 

"  They  were  seven,  all  armed  with  muskets.  We  were 
only  three.  One  an  old  man,  myself  a  lad  of  seventeen,  and 
the  other  a  servant.  There  was  no  time  for  flight  or  resist- 
ance. '  Jbajo  ! '  they  cried,  and  down  we  went,  with  our 
noses  on  the  road.  They  rifled  us  of  all  we  had  worth 
taking,  even  to  the  marse/Ies  jacket  I  wore.  Indeed  it 
was  a/go  vistoso  (rather  smart),  and  had  massive  silver  troches 
on  it. 

"  After  they  had  robbed  us,  they  bound  us  hand  and  foot, 
and  carried  us  into  the  bush.  Here  they  threw  us  down, 
and  held  a  consultation  whether  to  kill  us  or  not.  I  don't 
know  whether  it  was  to  frighten  us  and  make  us  quiet,  but 
one  of  them  seemed  very  anxious  to  despatch  us  at  once. 
En  reso/ucioriy*  they  determined  to  leave  three  men  to  watch 
us  there  till  night.  The  other  four  decamped  with  our 
horses  and  the  plunder.  They  were  afraid  to  leave  us, 
*  In  the  end. 


The  Sympathy  of  Smoke 

though  we  were  tied  so  tight,  for  fear  some  one  might  pass 
along  the  road,  and,  hearing  our  cries,  come  to  the  rescue.  It 
was  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  we  were  attacked,  and 
all  through  that  long  sultry  summer  day,  they  sat  and  watched 
us.  Several  times  we  heard  passers-by  within  twenty  yards 
of  us ;  but  our  guard  would  have  stabbed  us  at  once  if  we 
had  cried  out.  The  cords  cut  my  wrists  painfully,  and  I 
was  dying  of  thirst. 

"  I  begged  and  prayed  one  of  the  robbers  to  loosen  my 
wrists  a  little,  but  he  refused.  I  entreated  him,  in  the  name 
of  Christ,  to  get  me  a  drink  of  water,  for  the  river  was 
not  fifty  yards  off.  He  said,  if  I  was  not  quiet  he  would 
make  an  end  of  me. 

"  '  At  any  rate,  for  the  sake  of  the  blessed  Virgin,  let  me 
smoke  something  !  '  On  this  last  piteous  request  the 
robber's  heart  relented,  and  he  said, 

" '  Quiere  Vmd.  puro  u  papel  ? '  (will  you  have  a  cigar,  or 
a  cigar illo  f) 

" '  Tan  a  seca  boca  puro  no  se  puede  fumar '  (with  so  dry 
a  mouth  cigars  are  not  smokeable),  I  replied,  and  he  set 
about  making  me  a  few  papeles.  Soon  after  sunset  they  left 
us.  The  servant  at  last  got  one  hand  loose,  but  his  navaja  was 
in  the  other  pocket  of  his  calzones^  so  that  he  could  not  get 
at  it.  I  told  him  to  roll  towards  me  if  he  could,  and  he 
would  be  able  to  get  at  mine,  which  he  accordingly  did, 
and  opening  it  with  his  teeth,  cut  us  all  clear  of  our 
bonds. 

"The  old  factor  was  the  worst  off;  he  had  hurt  his  face 
on  some  root  or  stump,  when  they  threw  him  down  ;  his  head 
had  got  in  a  hole,  and  his  legs  were  lying  uphill,  so  that 
when  we  took  him  up  he  was  speechless,  and  we  thought  he 
would  have  died.  The  robbers,  doubtless,  had  private  infor- 
mation.    They  got  six  hundred  dollars  by  the  day's  work, 

337 


Madrid 

besides  our  horses,  and  my  marselles^  and  about  a  dozen 
dollars  from  me." 

"  But  were  the  robbers  never  caught  ? "  we  inquired. 

"  Oh,  no  !  One  of  them  I  myself  recognised  by  his  voice, 
though  I  took  good  care  not  to  let  him  see  I  did,  or  he 
would  have  made  away  with  me  on  the  spot." 

"  And  did  you  not  inform  against  him  afterwards  ? " 

"  No  !  I  thought  it  better  not  ;  for  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  prove,  and  he  was  a  very  desperate  character, 
who  would  have  killed  me  as  soon  as  a  fat  capon,  if  he 
had  borne  a  grudge  against  me.  Besides,  I  had  not  lost 
much — perhaps  fifty  dollars'  worth  altogether.  It  was 
not  worth  while  to  make  a  fuss  about  it,  and  run  into 
danger." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  your  friend's  rents  !  the  cause  of 
public  security  !  "  &c.,  &c.,  in  a  long  discourse  on  the 
deplorable  moral  result  of  an  acquiescence  in  such  dis- 
orders. It  had  not  struck  him  that  there  was  any  immo- 
rality in  being  robbed. 

We  reached  Madrid  to-day  at  six  in  the  morning,  and 
went  to  bed  at  once  by  broad  daylight.  We  got  up  and 
breakfasted  at  two.     It  is  now  night. 


338 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

Segovia,  May  9. 

On  our  way  to  London  we  determined  to  take  the 
Escorial.  Leaving  Madrid,  therefore,  by  the  first  gate  we 
could  find  (that  at  the  end  of  the  Calle  de  Alcala,  Madrid's 
Piccadilly),  we  turned  to  the  left  and  skirted  the  city  walls, 
till  we  reached  the  pleasant  avenues  which  line  the  margin 
of  Manzanares. 

Passing  under  a  lofty  triumphal  arch,  we  bade  farewell  to 
the  precincts  of  La  Corte,  and  crossed  the  river  by  a  bridge 
adorned  with  a  few  broken-nosed  stone  statues.  Three  or 
four  hours'  ride  across  a  bare,  bleak,  undulating  plain  carried 
us  out  of  sight  of  Madrid,  which,  being  a  city  set  on  a  hill, 
takes  some  little  hiding,  and  looks  well  in  the  distance. 

Turning  the  ridge  of  a  low,  dark  range  of  hills,  the  huge 
grey  masses  and  lofty  spires  of  the  Escorial  appeared  at  the 
foot  of  its  snow-sprinkled  mountains  on  the  other  side  of 
a  broad,  flat,  wooded  valley.  From  its  great  size  it  seemed 
nearer  than  it  was,  and  the  night  fell  before  we  reached  the 
small  town  which  has  grown  up  in  its  vicinity. 

The  Fonda  of  Callisto  Burgilios  is  a  comfortable  house, 
and  there  were  stewed  pigeons  in  the  olla.  We  supped  in 
the  kitchen.  Don  Callisto,  our  host,  judging,  I  suppose  from 
our  soiled  and  seedy  arr'iero  costume,  that  we  were  hawkers 
of  some  sort,  asked  us  what  we  had  to  sell  in  the  alforjas. 

We    disabused  him  of  his  error,    telling  him  our  usual 

339  Y 


Escorial 

stor)^,  that  we  were  poor  portrait-painters.  But  it  struck 
me  that  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  keep  up  the  impression 
of  our  being  ignorant  tramping  vagabonds,  by  way  of  getting 
a  few  rises  out  of  him,  for  he  seemed  an  affable  and  jocose 
personage. 

"  Entrando  en  el  pueblo,  vimos  un  tal  desaforado  edeficio, 
que  parece  iglesia  grandemente  desigual  conforme  es  pequeno 
el  lugar.  Pero  quiza  sera  convento  u  fabrica.  Siempre  mas 
se  parece  a  un  convento."  (Entering  the  place,  we  saw  a 
whacking  great  building,  which  seems  far  too  big  a  church 
for  so  small  a  town.  But  perhaps  it  is  a  convent,  or  a 
manufactory.  However,  it  looks  more  like  a  convent  than 
anything  else.) 

"  Hombre  I "  he  replied  ;  "  can  it  be  possible  that  there  is 
any  one  who  has  not  heard  of  the  Escorial,  the  eighth 
wonder  of  the  world  ;  if,  indeed,  it  be  not  the  first,  and 
before  all  the  other  seven  ?  The  Escorial,  which  people  come 
to  see  from  the  ends  of  the  earth, — Caramba  !  " 

"  And  pray  what  may  Escorial  mean,  I  have  not  before 
heard  the  word  ?  " 

"  He  who  says  Escorial  says  all  ;  for  there  is  more  thani 
a  little  of  everything  in  it.  Palace — church — convent- 
sepulchre.  Philip  the  Prudent  vowed  it  on  the  field  of  StJ 
Quentin  (where  he  conquered  the  French),  and  built  it  tc 
be  the  pious  retreat  of  his  old  age,  and  a  tomb  more  stupen-l 
dous  than  the  pyramids  (which  are  in  Egypt,  senores)^  foi 
the  bones  of  Catholic  kings." 

"If  this  be  the  case,  we  had  perhaps  better  delay  oui; 
journey  towards  Segovia  a  few  hours  to-morrow  morningJ 
and  take  a  look  at  this  Escorial,  que  segun  dice  Vmd.  debi 
ser  cosa  muy  linda^  y  digna  de  verse  "  (which,  from  what  you^ 
worship  remarks,  appears  to  be  a  thing  fair  and  worthy 
be  seen). 

340 


The  Blind  Guide 

"  I  have  had  the  honour  of  receiving  many  distinguished 
guests,  who  have  come  from  distant  countries  to  visit  the 
Escorial.  The  celebrated  Doomas  was  here,  and  spoke  muy 
amistosamente  with  me  in  this  very  kitchen.  There  was  a 
large  party  with  him.  They  insisted  on  cooking  several 
dishes  for  themselves.  They  drank  a  considerable  quantity 
of  wine  and  were  very  lively.  Afterwards  they  must  needs 
get  up  a  ball,  and  Doomas  danced  with  my  eldest  daughter." 

Next  morning  at  breakfast,  a  sound  of  shuffling  steps, 
accompanied  by  frequent  tappings  of  a  staff  along  the 
passage,  heralded  the  appearance  of  Cornelio,  the  celebrated 
blind  guide  of  the  Escorial.  He  seems  to  be  about  sixty, 
and  has  a  mild,  fat,  vacant,  uplifted,  listening  face.  He 
seemed  to  consider  it  a  matter  of  course  that  we  should 
employ  him,  and  so  we  did. 

The  tappings  of  his  staft  on  the  flag-stones  soon  awoke 
the  echoes  of  a  vast  cloistered  court,  and  a  functionary 
appeared  who  conducted  us  by  a  back  entrance  up  into  the 
palace  department  of  the  edifice.  Here  the  first  thing  which 
struck  us  was  a  quantity  of  the  most  brilliant-coloured 
tapestry  we  had  ever  seen.  Indeed,  most  of  the  rooms  are 
covered  with  it, — scenes  from  the  chase,  the  battle-field,  and 
bull-ring.  One  suite  of  apartments  was  illustrated  with  the 
adventures  of  Telemachus,  as  our  usher  informed  us.  After 
hearing  a  great  deal  about  this  worthy  Ithacan,  we  thought 
on  the  strength  of  our  costume  we  might  ask  for  an  histo- 
rical commentary  ;  so  I  said — 

"  Pues  quien  era  este  Telemaco  ?  parece  que  fuese 
caballero  muy  principal  en  su  tiempo  ;  es  regular  que  era 
Espaiiol."  (After  all,  who  was  this  Telemachus  ?  it  seems 
he  was  a  very  considerable  person  in  his  day  ;  probably  he 
was  a  Spaniard.) 

"  Que  !  hombre,  era  Frances."     ("  My  dear  sir," — in  a 

341 


Three  English  Sages 

tone  of  expostulatory  surprise  at  such  an  error — "  he  was  a 
Frenchman.") 

Happening  to  see  three  small  Wedgewood  porcelain  busts 
of  familiar  faces  on  the  chimney-piece,  we  inquired  who  they 
were. 

" Tres  filosofos  Ingleses."  (Three  English  philosophers.) 
"  This,"  he  said,  pointing  to  Pope,  "  is  the  famous  Chiquiper ; 
this,"  pointing  to  Johnson,  "  is  the  wise  Poppy  ;  and  this," 
laying  his  hand  on  Shakespeare's  round  forehead,  "is  the 
prudent  Honsoon." 

There  was  one  set  of  rooms  prettily  decorated  in  mar- 
queterie  wainscot,  by  Carlos  IV.,  who  himself  worked  at  it, 
A  cipher  of  his  name  is  shown  as  the  royal  handiwork.  All 
the  door-handles  and  hardware  fittings  were  of  elaborate  cut 
steel,  inlaid  with  gold. 

Philip  II. 's  bedroom — a  dark,  cold,  uncomfortable  cell  as 
need  be — is  only  separated  by  a  glass-door  from  the  vast 
and  lofty  church.  We  were  made  to  sit  down  in  its 
ante-chamber,  on  a  straight-backed  armchair  and  backless 
stool ;  and  when  thus  seated  opposite  each  other,  were 
informed  that  here  and  thus  sat  Philip  and  his  prime 
minister  Olivarez.  We  were  not  so  much  affected  by  our 
unforeseen  position  as  our  conductor  seemed  to  expect, 
only  remarking,  that  if  Philip  and  Olivarez  had  been 
informed  that  we  were  about  to  fill  their  places,  they  would 
probably  have  been  more  astonished  and  ashamed,  than  we 
were  proud  and  delighted. 

We  now  descended  into  the  sacristia,  where  our  blind 
man  met  us  again  ;  also  a  fat  young  man,  and  the  sacristano, 
who  conducted  us  all  down  into  the  Panteon^  by  a  dark 
flight  of  steps,  plunging  into  the  entrails  of  the  earth.  The 
vault  was  not  to  be  entered,  the  gates  being  closed  during 
the  lying  in  state  of  the  little  Prince  of  Asturias. 

342 


The  PufF  Interjectional 

The  sacristano  lighted  a  h'ne  of  candles,  just  within  the 
gilded  bars,  which  dimly  lighted  up  this  somewhat  tawdry 
sepulchre.  The  poor  little  pocket-edition  of  Catholic 
Majesty^  bound  in  crimson  velvet  and  gold,  suppressed  so 
soon  after  publication,  with  the  hot-pressed  leaves  of  his 
kingly  destiny  uncut,  lay  on  an  altar-table  in  the  middle  of 
the  vault,  and  afforded  a  topic  of  moralising  speculation  on 
his  probable  escape  from  many  troubles.  Around  him,  in 
their  carved  and  gilded  bins,  reposed  the  ashes  of  his  less 
fortunate  ancestry,  many  of  whom  had  better  been  buried 
in  their  first  than  in  their  second  childhood.  The  sacristan 
pointed  out  the  positions  of  various  kings  and  queens  ;  and 
I  asked  him,  as  we  were  about  to  depart,  which  receptacle 
was  reserved  for  Isabella  II. 

"  No  se  sabe  todavia."     (It  is  not  yet  known.) 

"  Que  importa  ? "  (What  does  it  matter  ?)  said  the  fat 
young  man  in  an  irreverent  tone  of  levity  ;  "  despues  de  la 
muerte,  para  mi  todo  es  bueno  "  (after  death,  one  place,  as 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  is  as  good  as  another). 

^'  Hombre ! "  cried  the  sacristan,  as  he  stooped  down  to 
blow  out  the  row  of  candles  within  the  grating,  "  you  should 
not  (pufF)  talk  lightly  (pufF)  in  the  presence  of  the  sacred 
(pufF)  remains  of  their  Catholic  (pufF)  Majesties." 

The  assertion  of  Death's  levelling  republicanism  by  the 
fat  young  man,  and  the  undignified  official  remonstrance  of 
the  wheezy  little  sacristan,  as  he  stooped  and  pufFed  over 
his  flaring  and  swealing  candles, — contrasting  so  strangely 
with  all  that  solemn  gloom  and  visible  darkness  of  funereal 
pomp, — awakened  a  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  much  stronger 
than  description  can  give  an  idea  of;  and  we  laughed  with 
such  irreverent  heartiness,  that  I  do  not  doubt  but  the  old 
sexton  (who  laughed  a  little  too  himself)  would  ease  his  con- 
science by  cursing  us  all  for  a  set  of  blasphemous  heretics. 

343 


St.  Pablo  not  St.  Paul 

From  the  foundations  we  ascended  to  the  summit  of  the 
pile,  at  least  as  high  as  could  be  reached,  which  was  only 
the  gallery  round  the  dome  :  this,  however,  commanded  a 
view  of  the  gridiron-shaped  building  below,  and  the  sur- 
rounding country,  vast  and  grand,  but  not  particularly 
beautiful  ;  a  dark,  frowning  range  of  mountains  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  boundless  plains  of  Castille  on  the  other. 

Our  blind  Cornelio  pointed  out  different  places  in  the 
horizon.  He  had  shown  a  wonderful  memory  in  conducting 
us  through  the  labyrinth  of  narrow  passages  in  the  walls, 
and  corkscrew  staircases,  telling  us  about  each  statue,  as  he 
came  to  its  pedestal,  when  we  emerged  on  the  gallery  within 
the  dome.  This  is  ornamented  with  great  gilt  statues  of 
the  Apostles,  and  he  specially  informed  us  that  this  St.  Pablo 
was  not  the  St.  Paul  of  London,  which  he  chuckled  over  as  a 
most  excellent  joke  for  heretics  of  the  Anglican  persuasion. 
In  the  picture-galleries,  however,  where  he  had  no  corners 
and  angles  to  guide  himself  by,  and  had  to  guess  his  dis- 
tances, he  usually  pointed  to  one  picture,  and  described  the 
next. 

In  the  church  there  are  a  great  number  of  gigantic 
music-books,  said  to  be  written  and  illuminated  by  one 
monk.  They  are  about  four  feet  by  three,  each  containing 
sixty  or  seventy  leaves  of  vellum  richly  illuminated.  One 
would  not  have  thought  a  single  individual's  lifetime  could 
have  sufficed  for  such  voluminously  velluminous  works. 
We  also  saw  the  library,  where  they  showed  us  a  manuscript 
Alcoran  on  vellum  :  and  many  other  things  we  saw,  which, 
if  they  were  written  in  a  book,  it  might  be  set  up  on  a 
shelf  of  the  Escorial  library,  and  remain  till  called  for.  The 
fact  is,  we  were  weary  of  this  great  magnificently-ugly 
place  before  we  had  half  done  it,  and  were  very  glad  when 
we  were  allowed  by  our  guides  to  go  away. 

344 


Fonda  San   Rafael 

Riding  to  Guadarrama,  we  turned  up  the  mountain,  and 
had  to  ascend  by  the  zigzag  road  to,  I  should  think,  about 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plain.  It  was  very- 
cold  towards  the  top,  and  there  was  here  and  there  a  patch 
or  two  of  snow.  We  had  been  afraid  to  go  by  La  Granja, 
as  it  was  not  known  whether  the  road  was  passable  for  snow, 
that  pass  being  much  higher.  There  was  a  mighty  rushing 
wind,  very  keen  and  piercing,  which  blew  our  cloaks  about 
our  ears  in  a  manner  very  trying  to  our  tempers. 

There  is  nothing,  perhaps,  more  annoying  in  the  category 
of  grievances  incident  to  clothing,  than  the  disposal  of  a 
vast  mass  of  heavy  drapery  on  a  gusty  day  ;  when  you  fling 
it  over  your  shoulders  and  the  whole  thing  flaps  in  your  face 
like  an  avalanche,  smothering  up  all  your  frantic  indigna- 
tion and  endeavours.  Then  the  beasts  you  ride,  finding,  as 
they  are  sure  to  do,  that  they  have  you  at  a  disadvantage, 
are  sure  to  be  as  inconvenient  as  possible.  We  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  capa^  which  is  not  a  bad  thing  for  slow 
travelling  on  horseback  in  rain,  is  eminently  unadapted  for 
wind. 

The  aspect  of  the  country  on  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 
tain-range we  had  passed  was  more  barren  and  desolate, 
even,  than  the  country  surrounding  Madrid.  However,  it 
was  not  so  flat.  It  looked  like  a  volcanic  formation  of 
eruptive  hills  with  loosish  sandy  slopes,  on  which  vege- 
tation found  scanty  footing  and  seemed  liable  to  slip 
away. 

We  could  not  see  Segovia,  as  we  had  hoped.  Descending 
to  Fonda  San  Rafael^  we  supped  on  a  rabbit,  and  walked  out 
to  see  the  sun  set.  We  came  to  where  a  flock  of  goats  were 
being  milked  near  a  farm-house  by  the  banks  of  the  stream. 
The  manners  of  the  goats  towards  one  another  are  curious. 
They  seem  to  take  a  pleasure  in  a  sort  of  sham  fight,  as 

345 


Segovia 

regular  in  its  tactics  as  a  hick-hack,  smick-smack  cutlass- 
encounter  between  two  desperate  smugglers  at  Astleys. 
The  combatants  push  with  their  heads  down,  leaning  against 
each  other's  horns  ;  shortly  they  rear  high  up,  and  coming 
down  mutually  tap  their  fore-feet  sharply  together.  Some 
of  them  would  do  this  eight  or  nine  times  running.  We  got 
a  bowl  of  goat's  milk  to  drink.  It  is  not  quite  so  good  as 
cow's  milk,  but  there  is  no  great  difference. 

Here,  next  morning,  we  turned  off  the  Salamanca  road 
towards  Segovia.  About  half-way  stands  on  a  barish  hill 
the  Real  Sitio  of  Rio  Frio.  This  is  a  hunting-box  of  the 
kings  of  Spain  ;  but  being  a  vast  oblong  building,  it  was 
objected  that  it  was  too  big  for  a  box,  and  might  be  more 
properly  called  a  hunting  imperial,  or  at  least  a  chase-seat. 
Soon  after,  the  spires  and  towers  of  Segovia  overtopped  an 
intervening  hill. 

The  entrance  of  the  city  by  this  way  passes  through  a 
long,  straggling,  dilapidated  suburb  on  a  low  ridge.  Pro- 
jecting beam-crossed  gables,  propped  on  posts  of  wood  and 
granite,  or  here  and  there  a  few  Moorish  columns,  frown 
above  deep-arched  portals.  Between  this  suburb  and  the 
main  body  of  the  city  is  a  valley  spanned  by  the  celebrated 
Roman  aqueduct,  the  honour  of  whose  construction  is  how- 
ever disputed  by  Hercules,  the  Moors,  and  the  Devil.  It  is 
built  arch  over  arch,  growing  lighter  towards  the  top,  and  is 
a  very  graceful  piece  of  masonry. 

At  length  we  reached  the  irregular-shaped,  unevenly-built 
plaza.  The  shabbiest,  wretched  old  tumble-down  house-front 
in  the  whole  place  was  that  of  the  principal  Segovian  posada. 
We  were  assured,  however,  by  the  mozo  de  la  cuadra^  whomi 
we  met  under  the  rickety  gateway,  that  there  were  splendic 
new  apartments  at  our  disposition  ;  and  effectually  th( 
inside  turned  out  both  much  better  and  more  ample  than  the* 

346 


The  Alcazar 

dismal  narrow  front  led  us  to  anticipate.  Our  window  com- 
manded a  good  view  of  the  plaza^  at  the  opposite  side  of 
which  is  the  rounded  chancel-end  of  the  cathedral,  rich  with 
flying  buttresses.  The  inside  is  fine  ;  the  stone  roof  struck 
us  as  rather  heavy  ;  there  are  beautiful  windows  of  stained 
glass. 

Next  to  the  alcazar — a  noble  top-heavyish  Gothic  tower 
surrounded  by  a  mass  of  peak-roofed  French-chateau-like 
buildings.  Before  the  courtyard  was  an  iron  railing.  As 
we  walked  in,  the  porter  at  the  gate,  judging  by  our  get-up 
that  we  were  a  couple  of  inquisitive  Andalusian  arrieros^ 
stopped  us. 

"  Nobody  can  enter  ;  it  is  the  hour  of  the  nesta^  and  all 
the  garrison  are  asleep." 

"  Caramba  I  we  cannot  help  that.  Nosotros  somos  cabal- 
leros  Ingleses  que  tenemos  bula  special  para  ver  a  todo. 
(We  are  English  gentlemen  who  have  special  license  to  see 
everything)  ;  get  you  speedily  to  the  snoring  captain  of  the 
garrison,  and  tell  him  that,  with  permission,  we  desire  to 
inspect  the  premises." 

The  guardian  of  the  gate,  on  hearing  this,  bowed  very  low, 
and  entering  the  fortress,  shortly  emerged  with  an  artillery 
captain,  whom  we  begged  to  excuse  {du'imular)  our  disturbing 
him,  as  we  had  only  a  short  time  in  Segovia,  and  should  not 
like  to  leave  it  without  inspecting  this  precious  stone  in  the 
battled  tiara  of  Castille.  He  received  us  with  great  courtesy, 
and  showed  us  over  the  whole  place.  We  fraternised  the 
more  from  finding  we  had  many  common  friends  among  the 
artillery  officers  at  Seville.  This  alcazar  is  now  converted 
into  a  great  (I  believe  the  great)  college  of  artillery.  It 
contains  many  magnificent  rooms  with  richly-carved,  embla- 
zoned, and  gilded  ceilings. 

We    saw    the   schools   of    design    and    of    models,    the 

347 


Segovia  by  Sunset 


gymnasium,  and  the  miniature  cannons  and  mortars  which 
the  boys  are  taught  to  manoeuvre  with  little  ponies. 
Taking  leave  of  the  captain,  we  now  descended  to  the 
banks  of  the  Eresma,  whence  the  view  of  the  alcazar  which 
crowns  the  abutting  end  of  a  rocky  promontory,  whose  base 
is  washed  by  a  turn  of  the  stream,  tempted  Harry  to  sketch 
it  in  his  pocket-book. 

While  he  was  at  work,  and  I  sat  by  eating  oranges  under 
a  shady  tree,  two  men  drew  near  from  behind.  We  were 
rather  afraid  they  would  take  us  up  before  the  authorities 
for  sketching  the  fortress  ;  but  they  only  begged  us  to 
disimulate  their  curiosity  in  wishing  to  see  the  sketch,  and 
entered  into  conversation.  Among  other  things  they  asked 
if  we  were  not  Italians,  as  they  judged  us  to  be  from  our 
manner  of  speaking  the  Castilian. 

Afterwards  we  endeavoured  in  vain  to  get  into  the 
Templars'  church,  and  the  Parral  convent.  Ascending  the 
wooded  and  grassy  glade,  along  which  the  river  runs 
beneath  the  long  rocky  ridge,  the  city  above,  lit  by  sunset, 
flickered  in  the  watery  mirror  like  palaces  of  fire.  The 
aspect  of  Segovia  from  this  valley  is  very  striking  and 
beautiful.  The  brow  of  the  rock  is  fringed  with  dilapidated 
battlements,  beyond  which  slope  irregular  terraces  of  quaint 
old-fashioned  houses,  and  the  sky-line  is  broken  by  many 
lofty  towers  and  spires  besides  those  of  the  alcazar  and 
cathedral.  Far  away  beyond  the  gorge,  snowy  peaks  deeply 
tinged  with  purple  carmine  "stood  up  and  took  the 
evening." 

We  agreed  that  Segovia  and  Cuenca  were  commendable 
termini  for  a  romantic  honeymoon  tour,  supposing  the 
parties  to  be  of  suitable  disposition  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  the 
lovely  bride  should  have  a  taste  for  water-colours,  and  the 
noble  and  stalwart  bridegroom  should  be  willing  to  carry 

348 


Mellilunacy 


the  paint-box  and  camp-stool,  and  make  himself  generally 
useful  as  a  moveable  figure  of  the  foreground.  I  wonder  if 
I  shall  ever  revisit  these  places  in  my  mellilunacy.  We 
shall  start  for  Valladolid  to-morrow. 

I  have  been  loading  my  revolver,  which  I  had  discharged 
as  we  rode  into  Segovia.  I  blew,  as  my  custom  is,  down 
the  barrels,  to  see  if  they  were  clear,  and  finding  one 
stopped  up,  I  fired  a  cap  to  free  the  stoppage.  To  my 
surprise,  instead  of  a  slight  snap  and  flash,  there  was  a 
tremendous  report,  and  a  great  piece  of  plaster  fell  out  of  a 
hole  in  the  wall.  One  of  the  barrels  had  missed  fire,  it 
appeared,  and  the  charge  remained.  Harry,  who  had  been 
in  bed  an  hour,  woke  up  and  asked  if  I  had  killed  anybody  ; 
and  when  I  told  him  it  was  an  accident,  he  begged  me  not 
to  do  it  again,  and  went  to  sleep. 


349 


CHAPTER   XXX 

Valladolid,  May  12. 
On  Monday,  May  loth,  early  in  the  morning,  we  set  off 
for  Valladolid.  By  some  little  misapprehension  of  the 
points  of  the  compass,  we  took  the  direct  north  road, 
instead  of  the  north-west.  When  we  had  got  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  to  the  north  of  Segovia,  and  seen  a  view  of  the  city 
by  sunrise, — if  possible  more  lovely  than  yester-evening's 
sunset, — we  discovered,  by  inquiry,  that  we  were  in  the 
way  to  Escarabajos  instead  of  Coca.  So  we  went  down  into 
the  valley  again,  and  followed  the  course  of  the  Eresma. 

The  country  soon  became  dreary  and  sterile.  The  soil 
is  a  sharp  white  sand,  less  adapted  for  vegetation  than  for 
the  sprinkling  of  kitchen-flags.  After  crossing  the  Eresma 
again  a  league  or  so  on  this  side  of  Santa  Maria  de  la  Nieva, 
we  came  upon  a  forest  of  huge  pines.  This  sort  of  pine  I 
had  never  seen  before.  It  is  in  character  more  like  Scotch 
fir  than  any  I  know  ;  but  its  shape  is  more  cabbage-headed, 
and  the  colour  a  most  brilliant  emerald-green.  The 
feathery  hair  (for  I  don't  think  a  pine  can  properly  be  said 
to  possess  foliage)  was  about  five  inches  long,  the  cones  as 
big  as  a  smallish  cocoa-nut. 

As  there  were  a  good  many  lying  about  which  seemed 
fresh  fallen,  Harry,  whose  brother  is  rather  a  pine-fancier, 
made  an  onslaught  upon  one  to  get  some  seeds  to  carry 
home  ;  and  when  I  saw  they  were  as  big  as  an  almond,  I 

350 


Pinocchi  and   Pignuoli 

began  to  chop  away  with  my  dagger  on  my  own  account. 
These  little  pine-nuts,  which  have  a  hardish  thin  shell,  are 
very  good  to  eat,  and  taste  like  the  grains  of  soft,  scarcely- 
ripened  wheat,  only  richer, — perhaps  more  like  a  butter-nut 
than  anything  else  ;  they  are  not  easy  to  get  at,  for  the 
cones  are  hard  to  split,  and  exude  a  varnishing  gum,  very 
annoying  to  the  fingers. 

Though  we  did  not  rise  much  from  the  banks  of  the 
Eresma  to  Santa  Maria,  the  country  thence  to  Naba  de  la 
Cova  has  all  the  character  of  bleak,  desolate  table-land  on  a 
mountain-top.  After  Naba,  however,  it  began  to  show 
more  signs  of  cultivation,  and  the  sandy  excoriation  of  the 
country's  face  was  here  and  there  plastered  with  patches  of 
grass. 

At  Naba,  where  we  had  stopped  to  inquire  our  way  of  a 
knot  of  loiterers  before  the  posada  door  (and  to  light  our 
cigars),  after  some  little  conversation  an  old  man  had  asked 
us  whether  we  were  Spaniards  or  foreigners,  himself 
inclining  to  believe  that  we  were  Andaluzes.  Not  very 
far  out  of  the  village  a  party  of  women  and  children, 
weeding  near  the  edge  of  a  barley-field,  cried  out  to  us,  and 
begged  to  know  when  the  Funcion  at  Coca  was  to  take 
place. 

"  What  Funcion  ?  "  said  we. 

"  Surely  you,  caballeros^  are  the  ofic'iales  toreros  ( bull- 
fighting officials)  who  are  coming  from  Segovia  to  have  a 
fiesta  de  toros  on  the  day  of  San  Fulano." 

"  Your  pardon,  fair  ladies,  we  are  no  bull-fighters,  but 
English  gentlemen,  on  their  travels,  at  your  service."  On 
this  they  laughed,  and  exclaimed, 

"  Mentiras !  (fibs)  carai  que  embusteros  son  los  Anda- 
luzes !  "  (good  lack,  what  story-tellers  are  the  Andalusians  !) 
So  we  left  them  under  their  delusion. 


Coca 

The  castle  of  Coca  soon  appeared  in  the  distance.  It 
did  not  seem  anything  very  remarkable,  though  we  had 
read  in  the  guide-book  that  it  was  a  splendid  specimen  of  a 
Castilian  fortress.  We  inquired  of  an  old  man,  who  was 
driving  a  herd  of  horses  into  the  town,  what  sort  of  an 
edifice  it  was?  He  replied,  "  Poco "  (a  mere  nothing), 
and  shook  his  head  contemptuously  over  the  insignificance 
of  the  ruin. 

However,  as  we  had  arrived  early,  and  had  dined  before 
sunset,  we  repaired  to  the  castle,  and  found  it  indeed  a  very 
striking  ruin.  It  rises  from  the  bottom  of  a  great  hole 
about  forty  feet  deep,  excavated  near  the  brow  of  a  hill. 
This  deep  cavity  is  walled  round  like  a  well.  From  its 
edge,  of  course,  when  you  see  all  the  bottom  of  the  castle, 
otherwise  concealed  in  the  pit,  the  grandeur  of  the  building 
is  much  increased. 

It  is  a  regular  old-fashioned,  heraldic-looking  castle,  with 
pepper-box  turrets  at  the  top  corners.  It  is  entered  by  a 
bridge  on  the  north  side.  The  interior  is  of  a  somewhat 
modern  Arabesque.  The  old  posadero  of  La  Cruz,  to 
whom  we  were  recommended  for  information,  knew 
nothing  about  it,  but  thought  the  Duques  de  Alva  had  been 
its  alcaides  in  the  old  time. 

There  is  a  tall  watch-tower  standing  on  higher  ground 
than  the  castle,  400  or  500  yards  distant. 

At  sunset,  on  my  way  back  to  the  posada^  passing  through 
the  straggling  outskirts  of  the  town,  I  stopped  before  the 
gate  of  an  untidy  little  garden.  Here  an  aged  priest  in  a 
very  seedy,  old,  ragged  sotana^  with  a  greasy  black  skullcap 
on  the  top  of  his  head,  was  stooping  down,  and  sticking 
little  lath  crosses  in  the  ground. 

He  had  a  little  boy  helping  him,  who  carried  an  armful 
of  these  crosses,  which  he  took  one  by  one,  held  it  up  before 

352 


Monomaniac  Cura 

him,  mumbled  something  that  seemed  like  a  prayer  in 
Latin,  stooped  down  and  made  a  hole  with  the  end  of  it, 
into  which  he  dropped  a  pinch  of  some  powder  out  of  a 
paper  parcel,  planted  the  cross  in  the  hole,  and  then  holding 
his  hand  over  it,  seemed  to  be  giving  it  his  blessing. 

All  this  was  done  quickly,  but  with  much  seriousness 
and  solemnity  on  the  part  of  the  priest,  and  seemed  to  be 
an  affair  of  daily  business,  for  the  whole  of  one  end  of  his 
garden  was  planted  as  close  as  could  be  with  these  little 
crosses  (interspersed  with  onions),  and  indeed  must  have 
contained  some  thousands.  But  there  was  something 
comic  in  the  appearance  of  the  old  figure,  who  had  a  very 
long,  crooked,  hooked  nose,  and  a  back  bent  double.  He 
was,  moreover,  blind  of  an  eye,  and  the  other  had  a  sort 
of  oblique  tendency  to  peep  round  the  corner  of  his  nose, 
which  prevented  one  from  doubting  that  he  would  have 
squinted  if  he  had  possessed  two. 

As  he  rose  from  planting  a  cross,  and  was  taking  another 
from  the  boy,  he  caught  sight  of  me  looking  over  his  gate. 

"  Adios,  Sefior  Andaluz,"  said  he,  beckoning  me  with  the 
cross  in  his  hand, — "  Welcome  to  the  garden  of  the  souls  ! " 
(En  hora  buena  sea  entrado  Vmd.  en  el  jardin  de  las 
almas  !)  "Shall  I  plant  a  cross  for  the  benefit  of  your  soul, 
amlgo  ?     Varnos — this  very  one  shall  be  for  you." 

"  Muchisimo  le  agradezco  a  su  reverencia,  Seiior  Cura  " 
(I  am  extremely  obliged  to  your  reverence.  Sir  Priest),  said 
I,  taking  off  my  sombrero^  and  entering  the  garden.  As  I 
approached,  he  was  stooping  down  over  the  cross  ;  and  the 
boy,  to  whom  his  back  was  turned,  made  a  sign  (putting 
his  finger  to  his  temple,  and  turning  it  backwards  and 
forwards  as  one  bores  a  hole  with  a  pricker),  to  signify  to 
me  that  there  was  a  screw  loose  in  his  master's  under- 
standing. 

353 


The  Garden  of  Souls 

When  my  cross  had  been  duly  consecrated,  I  ventured 
to  inquire  in  what  manner  its  establishment  would  benefit 
my  soul  ? 

"  Perhaps  you  may  not  be  aware,"  he  replied,  "  that 
every  cross  which  is  set  up  here  on  earth  deprives  the  devil 
of  a  soul ;  for  the  number  of  souls  received  into  heaven  will 
be  exactly  measured  by  the  number  of  crosses  set  up  on 
earth.  As  I  have  nothing  particular  to  do,  I  make  fifty  of 
these  holy  symbols  of  our  faith  every  morning,  and  set 
them  up  here  in  my  garden  every  evening  before  sunset. 
You  see  I  drop  in  a  few  onion-seeds  beneath  each.  When 
the  onion  comes  to  be  of  a  good  size,  I  pull  it  up  and 
the  cross  with  it.  The  onion  goes  into  the  olla,  and  the 
cross  (which  is  by  that  time  nearly  rotten)  into  the  fire. 
But  at  the  moment  when  I  pull  up  the  onion  and  the  cross, 
a  man  dies,  and  a  soul  is  saved." 

"  But  when  you  pull  up  my  cross  and  onion,  shall  I  die 
too  ?  " 

"  Es  regular  que  si  (probably)  ;  but  what  signifies  that  ? 
You  will  be  saved  as  sure  as  my  onion  is  cooked." 

"  But  if  the  devil  is  continually  losing  souls  in  this 
wholesale  manner,  I  wonder  he  does  not  come  by  in  the 
night  and  pull  up  your  crosses." 

"I  should   like  to  see  him   try,  or  any  of  his  demons. 
They  dare  not,  my  son, — they  dare  not  touch  my  crosses] 
with  their  own  impious  hands  ;  but  they  do  what  they  can! 
to  instigate  wicked  little  boys  to  come  by  when  I  am  out! 
of  the  way,  and  pull  up  my  crosses  in  great  numbers.     And 
sometimes  the  demons  will  undo  the  sneck  of  the  gate,  and! 
drive  in  a  score  or  so  of  malditos  puercos  (cursed  pigs),  who] 
make  great  havoc  both  with  my  crosses  and  my  onions  ;J 
and  I  have  to  plant  them  again  as  it  pleases  Providence,  it 
being  impossible  for   me  to  tell,  unless  I  were  a  prophet,1 

354 


Cross  Purposes  with  Satan 

which  cross  belongs  to  which  onion  ;  and  this  no  doubt 
makes  considerable  confusion  in  the  dates  of  salvation  in 
particular  souls ;  and  probably  some  unlucky  ones  who 
happen  to  die  while  the  pigs  are  in  the  garden  are  cast 
away  altogether." 

"  But  why  is  the  devil  obliged  to  overturn  crosses  by 
deputy  ?  " 

"  You  see,  my  son,  if  the  devil  were  to  touch  one  of 
these  sacred  emblems,  it  would  cleave  to  him  for  ever.  If 
the  cross  were  so  large  and  heavy  that  he  could  not  carry  it 
away  with  him,  he  would  be  held  there  in  shame  and 
torture  to  the  end  of  time.  That  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so 
much  the  custom  to  have  huge  stone  crosses  in  the  centre 
of  market-places ;  for  where  men  are  selling  and  buying, 
and  gossiping  and  lying,  there  the  devil  always  would  like 
to  be  in  the  midst  of  them.  But  in  the  case  of  the  smaller 
crosses,  of  this  size  for  instance,  if  he  touched  it,  it  would 
stick  to  him,  and  brand  him  for  ever  among  his  execrable 
brethren  with  a  mark  of  the  most  indelible  shame  ;  and 
moreover,  its  holy  influence  would  neutralise  a  great  part 
of  his  malign  efficacy  in  doing  mischief." 

"It  seems  a  pity  that  some  saint  did  not,  in  times  past, 
find  an  opportunity  of  clapping  a  cross  on  the  devil's  back 
unawares." 

"  It  has  often  and  often  been  tried,  but  Saint  lago  himself 
is  not  man  enough  to  take  Satan  at  a  disadvantage.  This 
desirable  climax  is  reserved  for  the  triumph  of  the  last  day. 
Then  the  angels  Michael  and  Gabriel  will  pin  him  between 
the  crosses  of  the  good  and  bad  thief.  These  will  stick  to 
him  like  pitch.  They  will  cast  him  down  headlong  into 
the  darkest  bottom  of  hell,  where  he  will  lie  between  these 
crosses,  gnashing  his  teeth  in  great  anguish,  for  all  the  rest 
of  eternity." 

355  z 


A  Difficult  Subtlety 

"  But  will  these  holy  engines,  remaining  in  contact  with 
him  for  so  long  a  time,  effect  no  salutary  influence  on  his 
destiny  ?  " 

"  Doubtless  they  would,  if  the  cross  of  the  good  thief 
were  to  happen  to  come  uppermost  ;  but  it  is  to  be 
presumed  that  Michael,  who  owes  him  an  old  grudge,  will 
send  down  some  trustworthy  angel  along  with  Satan  in  his 
fall,  to  turn  him  in  case  of  accidents,  and  leave  him  with 
the  bad  cross  uppermost.  But  the  devil,  who  never  neglects 
a  chance,  and  is  desperately  persevering,  will  spend  all  his 
time  in  attempting  to  wriggle  himself  round  ;  and  who 
knows  what  time  may  bring  to  pass  ?  " 

"  I  thank  your  reverence  much  for  this  most  valuable 
disquisition,  which  I  shall  take  care  to  make  known  to  the 
world  at  large.      I  kiss  your  hand,  Sefior  cura." 

"  I  kiss  yours,"  said  he.     "  Adieu." 

Next  day  we  set  off  early  for  Valladolid,  not  by  Olmedo 
as  we  had  intended,  but  by  Mojados,  a  road  which  does  not 
appear  on  the  map,  and  does  not  appear  very  clearly  on  the 
face  of  the  country,  being  often  lost  in  the  sand  ;  however, 
they  told  us  that  it  was  a  shorter  way. 

We  rode  the  greater  part  of  the  day  through  vast  and 
sombre  pine-forests.  The  conversation,  partly  apropos  of 
the  crazy  old  curPs  theories,  and  partly,  perhaps,  influenced 
by  the  gloomy  scenery  of  the  forest,  turned  on  the  future 
punishment  of  sin.  Harry  advocated  rather  universalist 
doctrines  :  but  I  said  I  could  not  conceive  that  sin  should 
not  leave  some  indelible  mark  ;  seared  and  furrowed  traces 
of  the  soul's  disease,  which  even  eternity  could  never  wear 
away. 

"  Here,  where  we  can  exist  only  in  the  shifting,  momen- 
tary Present,  life's  distractions  cloud  over  the  memory  alike 
of  good  and  evil.     If  it  were  not  for  oblivion,  experience 

356 


A  Vision  of  Judgment 

would  be  too  heavy  a  burden  for  man  to  bear  upon  his 
shoulders — he  would  sink  in  the  mire,  broken  down  before 
his  time,  and  life  would  become  at  once  a  state  of  torment 
instead  of  trial. 

"  But  when  the  trial  is  ended,  there  is  no  reason  why 
reward  or  punishment  should  not  be  complete.  For  this 
end,  memory  of  all  the  predominant  good  or  evil  of  our 
past  lives  will  be  sufficient :  and  supposing  the  evil  prevails, 
imagine  what  a  revelation  that  would  be.  Stripped  of  the 
semi-transparent  bandage  in  which  she  went  half-blindfold 
upon  earth,  the  soul  will  be  laid  bare,  to  be  haunted  without 
respite  by  all  those  hideous  nightmares  of  sin,  and  shame, 
and  horror,  which  now  and  then,  one  at  a  time,  peep, 
dimly  seen,  beneath  the  corner  of  the  curtain. 

"  We  shall  awake,  amid  a  confused  huddle  of  ghosts — a 
cloud  is  still  before  our  eyes.  A  trumpet  sounds  behind 
the  veil  !  It  opens,  and  rolling  away  on  either  side,  reveals 
a  blinding  blaze  of  glory — to  these  how  beautiful — to  those 
how  dreadful  !  An  influence  like  a  mighty  rushing  wind 
divides  the  multitude.  On  one  hand  kneel  myriads  of 
bright  and  blessed  spirits,  bowed  in  adoration  ;  on  the 
other,  shivering,  stand  a  crowd  of  dismal  demons,  self- 
convinced  of  their  just  condemnation  I 

"  To  the  one  a  smiling  heaven  of  sunshine  opens,  with  a 
voice  of  heavenly  music,  crying,  '  Come,  ye  faithful  ! ' — to 
the  other,  through  falling  darkness,  a  thunder-tone  of  wrath 
muttering,  '  Depart,  ye  wicked  ! '  " 

We  emerged  from  the  forest  at  a  small  village  called 
Cazaren.  Here,  in  the  middle  of  the  market-place,  were  a 
party  of  men  and  women,  with  a  great  heap  of  the  cones  of 
the  pine  and  a  fire.  They  singe  them  in  the  flames  to  get 
rid  of  the  stickiness,  and  then  open  them  on  a  block  with  a 
small    one-handed   adze.     We  bought  a  cuartillo  (about    a 

357 


A  Dead   Flat 

quart)  of  them  for  about  three  half-pence,  and  kept  crack- 
ing and  eating  them  all  the  way  to  Mojados. 

The  country  round  about  all  seems  a  sunken  plain, 
whose  flat-topped  hills,  with  crumbling  sandy  sides,  look  as 
if  by  some  accident  they  had  remained  of  the  original  level. 

We  crossed  one  of  these  flat  tops  to  get  to  Mojados,  and 
thence  overlooking  the  broad  arid  valley,  fancied  we  saw 
Valladolid  about  twelve  miles  off\,  but  could  not  be  certain. 
At  Mojados  we  dined  in  the  Parador  of  the  diligence,  for 
we  had  now  struck  upon  a  camino  real.  After  dinner  there 
was  a  guitar  funcion,  in  which  a  professional  gentleman,  the 
mozo  de  la  cuadra^  and  Harry,  were  all  strumming  more  or 
less  together. 

Valladolid  lies  on  a  dead  flat,  and  is  an  ugly  city,  in  a 
frightful  country,  by  no  means  worth  riding  through  or 
riding  to.  Even  the  sunset-lights,  by  which  we  saw  it 
first,  failed  to  gild  it  with  any  colour  of  enthusiasm. 

Observing  a  grassy  lane  that  diverged  from  the  road 
within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  city,  and  as  we  were  in  no  hurry 
to  enter  Valladolid,  we  turned  into  it,  and  lying  down  on  a 
flowery  bank,  lit  our  cigars,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the 
sunset. 

We  had  lightened  the  ponies  of  their  alforjas^  and  freed 
them  of  their  bridles,  so  that  they  could  pick  the  fresh  grass 
at  ease.  They  seemed  to  like  it  so  much  that  we  began  to 
pity  their  case  for  having  been  kept  so  long  on  dry  barley. 
They  had  not  had  any  green  meat  all  the  way  from 
Granada,  and  all  the  time  they  stood  in  Madrid. 

Two  men  with  great  green  bundles  of  lucerne  on  their 
heads  came  by  in  the  most  apposite  manner.  They  at  once 
offered  to  sell,  and  we  bought  the  largest  of  their  bundles, 
thinking  what  a  treat  this  lush  herbage  would  be  to  the  dry 
vitals  of  our   beasts.     We  strewed  it  on  the  ground,  and 

358 


Latet  Anguis  in  Herba 

they  fell  upon  it  voraciously  enough  at  first ;  but  soon  the 
ingenious  obstinacy  of  the  animals  discovered  that  we  took 
a  pleasure  in  seeing  them  eat  the  lucerne,  and  they  began  to 
draw  off  the  green  heap,  which  they  could  devour  by  great 
mouthfuls,  to  nibble  at  foolish  little  points  of  grass-blades, 
which  they  pretended  to  consider  sweeter. 

We  attempted  for  some  little  time  to  disabuse  them  of 
their  error,  jerking  their  stupid  heads  back  over  the  heap 
again,  and  only  allowing  them  to  eat  in  peace  when  they 
ate  our  lucerne.  This  course,  however,  was  found  equally 
to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  our  smoke  and  their  meal  ;  so 
we  let  the  ungrateful  fools  feed  where  they  liked  ;  and 
when  the  sun  was  down  rode  into  Valladolid. 

Like  our  ponies,  however,  possessing  in  some  degree  the 
quality  of  firmness,  we  were  resolved  not  to  relinquish  the 
valuable  vegetation  for  which  we  had  paid  a  considerable 
sum,  not  exceeding  threepence.  It  was  agreed,  that  if 
Harry  (who  is  handy  with  cords  and  lashings)  would  make 
it  up  in  a  neat  roll,  and  cord  it  with  one  of  our  halters,  I 
would  carry  it  in,  and  we  would  leave  it  in  their  mangers 
all  night,  and  see  if  they  did  not  repent  before  morning. 

As  we  entered  the  gate  of  the  city  (it  being  now  dark), 
this  great  bundle  of  green  stuff  greatly  excited  the  suspicion 
of  the  dogana. 

"Ou'es  esto, — what's  this?  (holding  the  lamp  to  it), 
Vamos  a  ver  que  tal  es  la  sierpe  que  debajo  desta  yerba 
s'esconde, — Let  us  see  what  sort  of  serpent  lurks  beneath 
the  grass  (ferreting  for  bottles  as  he  spoke).  It  is  probable 
that  in  such  a  meadow  we  shall  meet  some  dew." 

"  Nada  hay  seiior  Doganero  sino  unas  mielgas — nada  mas 
(it  is  nothing  but  lucerne)." 

"What  the  deuce  do  your  worships  bring  lucerne  into 
Valladolid  for,  carajo  ?  " 

359 


Valladolid 

"A  slight  salad  for  our  beasts,  con  licenzia.  They  have 
had  a  long  journey,  and  eaten  nothing  but  barley  since  they 
left  Granada,  de  modo  que  bastante  secas  tlenen  las  tr'ipas  (so 
that  their  tripes  are  sufficiently  dried  up)." 

Finding  that  there  was  no  hay  to  be  made  of  our  grass, 
one  of  them  seized  my  dagger,  and  examining  it  unsheathed, 
very  much  as  if  he  wished  to  become  its  owner,  said — 

"  What  business  have  you  to  carry  forbidden  arms  ?  " 

I  now  began  to  swagger  in  earnest.  "  We  are  very 
principal  English  cavaliers,  and  have  a  written  license  in  our 
passport  to  carry  what  arms  we  like.  We  are  not  accus- 
tomed to  be  kept  from  our  suppers  in  the  gates  of  insig- 
nificant cities,  but  rather  to  ride  in  with  an  escort,  and  sup 
with  ambassadors  ;  and  if  we  are  now  travelling  incognito 
by  way  of  amusement,  it  is  no  reason  why  we  should  be 
treated  in  a  manner  unbeseeming  our  rank  and  importance." 

This  speech,  which  I  delivered  in  a  serious  tone  of 
offended  dignity  over  my  beggarly  bundle  of  herbs,  had 
more  effect  than  I  had  anticipated,  for  the  man  at  once  gave 
up  the  dagger,  and  begged  pardon  for  having  treated  so 
distinguished  foreigners  in  a  manner  for  which,  we  must 
allow,  that  the  darkness  and  our  disguise  had  given  some 
excuse. 

We  now  entered  the  city  by  the  Puerta  del  Campo,  a 
wide  and  rather  handsome  street,  up  and  down  which  we 
wandered  some  time  without  being  able  to  find  a  posada. 
At  last  we  found  one,  and  went  through  into  the  stable, 
where  I  cast  the  green  stuff  into  the  manger,  and  began  to 
unsaddle.  We  had  been  followed  into  the  stable  by  the 
old  huesped  of  the  inn,  who  was  unfortunately  both  imbecile 
and  drunk  ;  we  told  him  to  take  away  some  donkeys  who 
were  running  loose  in  the  stable,  and  who  showed  an  imme- 
diate and  obstinate  proclivity  to  the  vegetation  our  ponies 


A  Landlord  in  Liquor 

had  despised,  and  thrust  their  outstretched  noses  into  it 
again  while  I  was  busy  unsaddling,  regardless  of  the  inter- 
calary kicks  and  cufFs  I  could  give  them  meanwhile.  But 
he  only  stood  hiccuping  irrelevant  matters,  till,  on  being 
spoken  sharply  to,  he  began  to  revile  us. 

"  Who  the  devil  are  you,  cursed  Biscayan  muleteers,  that 
come  and  order  me  about  in  my  own  stable,  carajo  ?  Turn 
out  the  burricos^  quotha — turn  them  out  yourselves,  and 
turn  yourselves  out  with  them,  Biscayan  burros  as  you  are, 
carajo  !  " 

"  Be  silent,  you  old  numskull.  Have  you  lived  long 
enough  to  lose  nine-tenths  of  the  little  wits  you  ever  had, 
and  to  put  nine  of  your  ten  toes  on  the  threshold  of  Death, 
without  learning  how  to  receive  guests  of  distinction,  when 
by  any  remote  chance  they  casually  honour  your  dilapidated 
kennel  of  a  Posadtlla  ?  " 

But  he  was  too  far  gone  in  drink  and  dotage  to  be  able 
at  all  to  perceive  the  distinction  of  those  guests  who  at 
present  honoured  him,  or,  indeed,  to  do  anything  but  totter 
and  stagger  about,  holding  a  very  unsteady  candil.  So  we 
adopted  his  suggestion,  and  turned  out  the  donkeys  into  a 
small  courtyard  ourselves,  he  cursing  us  all  the  time  for 
insolent,  beggarly  Biscayan  varlets. 

As  we  carried  our  alforjas^  and  saddles  and  bridles  up- 
stairs, we  were  met  and  civilly  received  by  the  posadera^  his 
young  and  melancholy-looking  wife,  who  made  signs  to  us 
that  he  was  not  all  right  in  his  wits,  and  tried  to  calm  his 
indignation.  She  showed  us  up  to  a  rather  desolate  bed- 
room, but  could  not  prevent  him  following  and  making  an 
exceedingly  inconvenient  tumult  over  our  baggage.  We 
thought  of  going  to  another  place  ;  but  remembering  the 
difficulty  of  finding  a  posada  at  all,  and  the  trouble  of 
saddling  again,  and,  to  crown   all,  the  lucerne  now  lying 

361 


The   Museum 

loose  in  the  manger,  we  concluded  it  was  best  to  lock  up 
our  room  and  leave  our  things,  and  go  out  to  sup  anywhere 
we  could  find  in  the  cafes  of  the  city. 

Taking  a  look  in  at  the  stable,  we  found  one  of  our  per- 
severing donkeys  had  got  in  again  by  some  means,  and  was 
eating  voraciously  out  of  the  Moor's  manger.  We  kicked 
him  out  ignominiously  with  the  vehement  foot  of  im- 
patience, fastened  the  door  of  the  courtyard,  and  left  the 
Moor  and  Cid  munching  languidly  alone. 

We  wandered  among  gay  crowds  of  people  taking  the 
fresco  under  the  colonnades  of  Valladolid's  Quadrant,  found 
the  Cafe  de  Cervantes,  supped,  and  went  home  to  bed. 

Next  morning  our  host  was  sober  and  civil,  and  it 
seemed  that,  when  out  of  his  cups,  the  young  wife  could 
manage  him  like  a  child.  We  breakfasted  at  the  cafi^  saw 
the  museum,  where  there  are  very  few  good  pictures,  and 
a  great  many  bad  and  clumsy  and  vulgar  statues  by 
Hernandez,  a  celebrated  sculptor,  in  painted  wood.  There 
was  a  striking  little  statue  of  a  tall  meagre  St.  Francis,  which 
did  not  look  as  if  it  had  been  cut  by  the  same  chisel,  though 
the  showman  said  it  was.  It  looked  more  like  the 
handiwork  of  Cano.  There  was  some  very  fine  oak 
carving  by  Berruguete. 

We  took  a  Gothic  and  Vandalic  glance  at  the  university 
and  library,  and  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  city  to  look  at 
the  silversmiths'  shops,  which  are  said  to  have  a  style 
peculiar  to  Valladolid.  The  Puenta  de  la  Plateria  had 
been  pulled  down,  but  the  Calle  de  la  Plateria  has  a  good 
many  silversmiths'  shops.  I  saw  nothing  that  attracted  the 
eye  of  cupidity,  except  a  little  hook-and-eye  of  silver  filigree, 
which  I  bought,  though  I  am  very  poor.  On  the  most 
moderate  calculation,  we  shall  be  ten  days  getting  to  Irun, 
and  I  have  only  nine  five-franc  pieces.     Harry  has  twelve. 

362 


A   Financial   Tightness 

We  shall  have  no  means  of  drawing  money  at  Irun,  there- 
fore, in  order  to  get  across  the  frontier,  we  depend  on  the 
sale  of  our  ponies. 

We  are  to  set  off  at  four  this  afternoon  to  make  an  easy 
stage  of  three  leagues  to  the  f^enta  de  Tijero  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening. 


363 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

Burgos,  May  1 6, 
Leaving  Valladolid  by  the  gate  of  Burgos,  we  crossed 
the  river  Pisuerga  by  a  long  and  handsome  old  bridge  at 
Cabezon,  and  arrived  at  the  Venta  de  T'ljero  about  an  hour 
after  dark.  It  was  a  large,  square,  new,  clean-looking 
place,  very  different  from  the  rambling,  dirty  old  ventas  of 
Andalucia. 

Having  disposed  or  our  ponies,  and  told  the  mo'z.o  to  carry 
the  alforjas  up  into  our  room,  we  entered  the  kitchen  under 
the  gateway,  and  began  to  forage  for  our  supper.  There 
were  some  fishes  like  dace  lying  about,  and  we  inquired 
what  they  were  a  dozen. 

"  Your  worships  are  not  about  to  eat   them   raw  ?  "  said 
the  fat  old  host,  who  seemed  to  be  somewhat  of  a  character. 
"  Not  so,  sefior  huesped^  but  fried   in  oil,  which  also  we 
shall  be  happy  to  purchase  of  you." 

"  Caramba,  that  is  not  our  way  of  doing  business  in  the 
north.  The  venteros  here  are  not  impostors  and  robbers,  as 
they  are  in  your  Andalucia.  My  wife  shall  cook  you  as 
many  as  you  can  eat,  and  I  shall  charge  you  to-morrow 
morning  according  as  it  pleases  Providence  to  bless  your 
worships  with  an  appetite." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  company  in  the  kitchen,  and 
one  of  them,  a  tall,  lean  old  man,  of  a  sombre  cast  of  coun- 
tenance, took  up  his  parable  and  said,  "  These  gentlemen,  it 

3^4 


Railway  Engineers 


seems  to  me,  are  not  Andaluzes,  but  English  ;  and  it  is 
regular  (probable)  that  they  are  engineers  of  the  railway 
which  is  to  be  constructed  from  Madrid  to  Paris." 

We  confessed  we  were  Englishmen,  and  the  company  took 
the  rest  of  his  proposition  as  a  self-evident  corollary  ;  for 
they  began  inquiring  eagerly  whether  the  country  was  prac- 
ticable, and  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  railway  was 
constructed.  We,  who  had  never  heard  that  such  a  thing 
was  contemplated,  nevertheless  thought  it  a  pity  to  disap- 
point them  of  the  official  information  they  anticipated  ;  so 
we  assured  them  that  the  country  from  Madrid,  as  far  as  we 
had  gone,  was  eminently  suited  to  the  construction  of  a  line  ; 
that  the  main  difficulty  we  foresaw  was  in  crossing  the 
Pyrenees  ;  but  that  to  English  engineers  everything  was 
possible  ;  for,  if  they  could  find  no  valley  to  go  through, 
they  thought  nothing  of  cutting  a  hole  through  several 
leagues  of  the  heart  of  a  mountain  :  nathless  the  ventero 
need  not  make  himself  uneasy  about  the  loss  of  his  traffic  on 
the  road  as  yet,  for  there  was  no  probability  that  the  rail- 
way would  be  in  working  order  before  at  least  seven  or  eight 
years.  This  announcement  seemed  satisfactory  to  all  parties. 
The  conversation  changed  ;  and  apropos  of  something  which 
I  forget,  the  lean  old  man  asserted  very  solemnly  that  no 
animal  would  eat  Christian  flesh  ;  and  that  this  was  an 
eminent  proof  of  the  supremacy  of  man  over  the  rest  of 
creation. 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  don't  you  remember  the  case  of  '  that 
prophet '  whom  the  lion  ate,  and  the  donkey  stood  in  the 
way  ?  It  is  written  in  the  Old  Testament,  so  there  can  be 
no  doubt  of  it." 

"  If  it  be  written  in  the  Old  Testament,  it  becomes 
evident   that  that  prophet  was  no  Christian,  but  a  Jew." 

"But,  if  lions  eat  Hebrews,  how  much  more  will  they  eat 


Christian  Flesh 

Christians ;  since  it  is  a  notable  fact  that  Christians  are  by- 
far  the  tenderest  diet  ?  Besides  which,  sharks  {lobos  marinos) 
have  eaten  many  Christians  in  the  West  Indies." 

"  With  respect  to  marine  animals  I  do  not  speak  ;  but  no 
animal  of  the  earth  eats  Christian  flesh,  and  this  is  a 
Catholic  truth." 

"  Is  not  the  worm  an  animal  of  the  earth,  and  does  it  not 
eat  the  most  pious  Christians  ?  In  the  church  of  the  Caridad, 
in  Seville,  there  is  a  picture  of  an  archbishop  in  an  open 
coffin.  All  over  his  body  great  maggots  are  creeping  in 
every  direction,  and,  indeed,  seem  to  have  eaten  the  greater 
part  of  him,  for  in  many  parts  the  bones  are  bare.  Now,  as 
this  picture  is  exposed  in  so  sacred  a  place,  it  must  be  pre- 
sumed, on  the  authority  of  the  Catholic  Church,  that  arch- 
bishops (whose  flesh  is  rather  more  Christian  than  ordinary) 
are  actually  eaten  by  worms.  The  picture  is  called  the 
*  Triumph  of  Death'  [El  triunfo  de  la  Muerte\  and  was 
painted  by  Valdes  de  Leal." 

"  This  '  Triumph  of  Death,'  and  the  case  of  being  eaten 
by  worms,  which  is  indeed  ignominious,  has  been  doubtless 
ordained  for  the  humiliation  of  fleshly  pride.  Death  is  no 
respecter  of  persons.  He  brings  down  both  young  and  old. 
The  Sefwra  huespeda  here,  for  example,  has  had  ten  children 
{'-  Eleven,'  cried  the  landlady,  from  above  the  hissing  frying- 
pan) — eleven  children,  I  say,  and  death  has  removed  them 
all  except  one." 

"  To  soy  el"  (I  am  he)  cried  a  piping  little  voice  in  the 
back-ground  ;  and  we  saw  a  poor  little  sickly  boy,  who  did 
not  look  otherwise  than  rather  likely  food  for  the  worms 
himself. 

As  a  plateful  of  fish  was  now  ready,  we  retired  to  the 
comedor  (eating-place),  and  enjoined  the  bereaved  mother  to 
make  haste  with  another  relay. 

366 


Mahomet  and  the   Fountain 

After  supper,  going  out  to  feed  the  ponies,  the  Moor  was 
not  hungry.  I  thought  he  might  be  thirsty,  and  led  him 
along  the  stable  towards  the  well-trough  ;  but  when  he  got 
opposite  the  heels  of  an  enteroy  he  became  so  violent  that  I 
could  not  get  him  further,  and  was  glad  to  get  him  back  safe 
to  his  manger,  after  a  severe  fencing-match,  in  which  both 
sides  snorted  and  screamed  and  lunged  backwards,  and 
flourished  their  heels  very  truculently. 

As  Mahomet  could  not  be  persuaded  to  go  to  the  foun- 
tain, I  had  to  untie  the  bucket-rope  and  bring  him  his  drink, 
after  which  he  ate  his  supper  peaceably,  whilst  I  lay  among 
the  straw  smoking  and  listening  to  his  munchings  and 
champings.  This  sound  is  musical  to  the  ear  of  a  traveller 
homeward  bound,  whose  horse's  legs  depend  upon  his  teeth. 

We  were  off  about  seven  next  morning,  and  stopped  to 
breakfast  at  Dueiias.  About  twelve  o'clock,  as  we  were 
riding  along  by  the  side  of  the  road,  a  caminero  (road-mender 
and  guard)  called  out  to  us  : — 

"  Hallo,  you  there,  are  you  contrabandistas  f — stop  !  "  We 
stopped  a  moment,  and  said  : 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  address  gentlemen,  and  begin  by 
throwing  imputations  upon  their  character  ?  You  deserve 
no  answer — adieu  ;  "  and  we  rode  on.  He  seized  his  musket, 
and  crying  "Stop  thieves  ! "  gave  chase,  now  and  then  pre- 
senting his  musket  as  if  he  meant  to  shoot.  We  took  no 
notice  of  this,  and  cantered  gently  on,  a  little  quicker  than 
he  could  run,  for  about  a  mile. 

As  our  ponies  were  not  very  fresh,  and  mine  rather  lame, 
we  thought  it  would  take  too  much  out  of  them  to  distance 
him  altogether  ;  so  we  pulled  up  and  waited  for  him.  He 
arrived  panting  and  puffing,  in  great  perspiration  and  choler. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  I,  before  he  had  breath  enough  to  speak, 
"  we  have  given  you  a  slight  lesson  of  civility,  which  it  is 

367 


An    Uncivil   Spaniard 

not  generally  requisite  to  teach  Spaniards,  whom  we  have 
found  a  courteous  people.  You  appear  to  be  an  unfortunate 
exception  ;  and,  feeling  that  your  education  had  been  neg- 
lected, we  thought  a  little  practical  instruction  would  do 
you  good.  If  you  had  spoken  civilly  to  us  at  first,  we 
should  have  been  happy  to  show  you  our  papers,  and  con- 
vince you  of  our  respectability  on  the  spot ;  but,  as  it  is,  we 
have  given  you  a  slight  run  in  the  sunshine,  to  sweat  the 
surplus  acerbity  out  of  your  manners." 

"  Carajo  I  Spaniards  are  not  accustomed  to  be  made  a  jest 
of.  I  shall  arrest  you — you  shall  be  fined  and  imprisoned, 
carajo  r^  cried  he,  panting  and  puffing,  and  wiping  his  face 
with  his  sleeve. 

"  You  seem  a  gentleman  of  great  importance  and  autho- 
rity !  perhaps  you  are  an  alcalde  !  " 

"  Yes,  alcalde  1  am  ;  and  I   will  alcadehe  you  when  we 
come  to  the  next  village. 
"  What  is  it  called  ?  " 

"  Magas  ;  and  its  prison  is  much  at  your  service." 
"  Ah  !  senor  alcalde  of  Magas,  your  principality  seems  to 
contain  but  a  few  shabbyish  cottages  ;  and  indeed  it  must 
be  a  poor  place  which  sends  its  alcalde  to  work  on  the  road. 
Still  it  is  something  to  reign  at  all.  How  does  %u  senora^ 
the  alcaldesa,  and  all  the  little  alcaldesitos  of  Magas  ?  " 

"  Be  silent,  insolent  man.  I  said  I  was  an  alcalde  on  the 
road,  and  there  I  will  make  my  authority  respected." 

"  Oh  !  then  you  are  only  governor  of  pickaxes  and  ham- 
mers, with  a  stone-heap  for  your  throne.  But  come  along, 
we  like  your  company,  and  indeed  it  seems  you  prefer  wear- 
ing the  road  to  mending  it.  We  shall  feel  it  our  duty,  as 
you  have  treated  us  uncivilly,  to  take  you  before  the  alcalde 
of  the  next  place  ;  for,  though  the  little  eccentricities  of  your 
manner  (he  had  cursed  us  by  all  the  most  indecent  oaths  he 

368 


Chaff  Against  the  Grain 

could  think  of)  only  divert  mj,  they  might  annoy  other  tra- 
vellers. Therefore  we  shall,  in  a  friendly  manner,  represent 
to  the  alcalde  that,  from  the  peculiar  turn  of  your  mind,  you 
are  not  so  much  adapted  for  this  as  you  might  be  in  some 
other  equally  honourable  employment.  In  the  meantime 
pray  don't  distress  yourself  by  disturbing  the  serenity  of 
your  temper  (he  was  almost  black  in  the  face  v^^ith  rage). 
Would  your  worship  smoke  ?  (offering  a  paper  of  cigarillos). 
No?  (lighting  one  myself).  No  haga  Vmd.  desaires^  przy 
don't  stand  on  ceremony."  He  said  "  No,  thank  you,"  very 
sulkily  ;  but,  about  this  stage  of  the  discourse,  he  appeared 
to  begin  to  surmise  that  he  had,  metaphorically  speaking, 
put  his  foot  in  it.  He  was  a  great  hulking  fellow,  more  than 
six  feet  high,  with  a  stupid,  fierce  countenance,  and  a  squint. 
The  expression  of  his  face  reminded  us  of  a  baited  bull. 

However,  now  we  had  begun  it,  we  thought  it  a  pity  not 
to  see  our  funcion  to  an  end  :  so  for  the  next  mile,  till  we 
reached  Magas,  I  kept  sticking  handarillas  of  chaff  into  the 
tough  hide  of  his  bovine  intellect.  Harry  suggested  that 
we  might  lose  a  good  deal  of  time,  and  had  perhaps  better 
buy  him  off ;  but  I  was  decidedly  for  going  before  the 
authorities,  "  for,"  said  I,  "  there  will  ten  to  one  be  some- 
thing to  make  a  story  of,  and  wc  have  had  lamentably  few 
adventures  lately.  It  would  even  be  worth  while  almost  to 
pass  a  night  in  prison." 

Reaching  the  village,  we  inquired  for  the  house  of  the 
alcalde.  He  was  not  at  home,  but  his  wife  and  daughter 
appeared  at  the  door.  In  the  meantime,  what  with  the 
sultry  weather,  and  much  conversation  with  the  caminero^  I 
was  very  thirsty,  and  persuaded  the  alcalde'' s  pretty  daughter 
to  bring  me  a  glass  of  water.  A  crowd  of  forty  or  fifty, 
chiefly  women  and  children,  had  gathered  by  the  time  the 
alcalde  arrived  ;  and  I  made  the  best  of  my  time,  to  have 

369 


The  Alcalde 

public  opinion  on  our  side,  by  making  civil  speeches  to  the 
bystanders — giving  a  cigarillo  or  two  to  the  men — admiring 
a  baby  or  two  in  the  arms  of  influential  matrons,  and  insinu- 
ating a  compliment  or  two  on  their  own  charms  to  the 
younger  ladies. 

The  jefe  politico  (political  chief)  of  the  place  was  a  quiet, 
respectable-looking  man,  dressed  in  paTio  pardo  (brown 
cloth).  I  saluted  him  with  respectful  ceremony,  handed 
him  our  papers,  and  from  the  saddle  delivered  a  dignified 
and  moderate  statement  of  our  case,  while  he  stood  in 
judgment  beneath  the  porch  of  his  house.  When  I  had 
done,  the  caminero  demanded  a  private  audience,  and  they 
entered  the  house  together.  When  they  came  out  again, 
the  alcalde  looked  rather  perplexed  and  irresolute.  Of 
course  he  could  not  understand  a  word  of  our  passports, 
which  were  in  English  and  French.  He  said  copies  must 
be  taken  of  them,  and  sent  to  Madrid  ;  that  he  could  not 
see  we  had  been  to  blame  ;  but  as  we  had  brought  the 
man  off  his  work,  we  had  better  give  him  a  gratuity  of  a 
peseta. 

"  Our  papers  are  in  order,  as  you  must  clearly  see,  Seiior 
Alcalde.  They  are  already  registered  in  the  archives  of  all 
the  ambassadors  in  Madrid.  Therefore  our  names  will  be 
sufficient,  and  these  we  are  prepared  to  give  you.  As  to 
giving  a  gratuity  to  this  man,  the  trouble  he  has  had  is  only 
the  result  of  his  little  judgment  and  want  of  discrimination, 
in  mistaking  so  principal  cavaliers  for  suspicious  persons. 
He  has  been  insolent,  also,  to  the  full  extent  of  his  conver- 
sational powers.  If  we  encourage  this  ill-behaviour  by 
rewards,  we  make  other  travellers  on  the  road  all  the  more 
liable  to  be  annoyed  and  impeded  by  any  caminero^  mas 
tonto  que  regular  (more  foolish  than  usual),  who  may  take 
it  into  his  head  to  stop  them.     Therefore,  with  all  respect 


I  am  in  Possession  of  the  Street 

for  you,  we  shall  not  act  on  your  suggestion,  and  have 
the  honour  of  wishing  you  a  good  day." 

Hereupon,  I  put  spurs  to  the  Moor,  waved  my  sombrero 
to  the  company,  and  we  rode  along.  But  our  friend  the 
caminero  did  not  at  all  approve  of  this  arrangement.  He 
ran  after  us,  crying,  "  Stop  thief !  "  Harry  stopped,  and  I 
was  slowly  moving  on,  when  the  man  got  before  me,  pre- 
sented his  musket,  and  shouted,  "  Will  you  stop,  carajo  !  or 
shall  I  fire  ?  " 

"  Fire,  you  old  ass  !  "  said  I  ;  "  you  know  as  well  as  I  do, 
that  there  is  no  more  charge  in  your  musket  than  there  are 
brains  in  your  head  ;  and  if  it  would  go  off,  you  can  no  more 
shoot  straight  than  you  can  look  straight  with  your  squint- 
eyes.  Will  you  rob  me  in  the  street,  ladron^  after  the 
alcalde  has  said  you  had  no  cause  to  molest  us  ?  " 

In  the  midst  of  this,  the  alcalde  came  running  up  in  a 
great  pucker,  and  said  : 

"  Put  down  your  gun,  man  !  This  is  out  of  all  course  ot 
law  ;  we  must  refer  the  matter  to  the  maestro.''^ 

Harry  now  departed  with  the  alcalde  and  the  passports, 
and  I  remained  entertaining  the  crowd  with  an  improved 
rkhauffe  of  the  gravelling  things  I  had  said  to  my  enemy 
before.  He,  thinking  me  the  more  dangerous  man  of  the 
two,  had  remained  to  keep  an  eye  upon  me,  which  I  was 
glad  of,  because  I  knew  his  absence  would  enable  Harry  to 
get  his  statement  made  in  peace  and  quiet,  without  inter- 
ruption. Besides  which,  the  audience  was  by  this  time 
unanimously  on  my  side,  and  laughed  so  much  at  the  play- 
ful little  sarcasms  with  which  I  kept  him  in  torture,  that  he 
found  it  at  last  intolerably  unpleasant,  and,  shouldering  his 
musket,  departed,  amid  the  jeers  of  the  company. 

When  he  was  gone,  they  told  me  he  was  not  of  this  but 
the  next  village,  and  they  had  always  heard  he  was  a  very 

371  AA 


"  My  Oracular  Tongue  " 

honourable  man,  but  it  appeared  his  conduct  in  this  instance 
had  been  inexcusable.  One  of  the  women  asked  me  if  we 
were  not  Portuguese,  and  seemed  to  be  all  the  better 
pleased  to  hear  I  was  not.  The  caminero  had  confidently 
asserted  we  were  Alemanes  (Germans). 

After  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Harry  returned  :  the 
maestro  had  decided  in  his  favour,  and  reprimanded  the 
caminero^  telling  him  "  that  to  create  obstructions  on  the 
highway  was  not  a  means  to  make  foreigners  of  distinction 
travel  through  their  country."  Who  this  maestro  was  it 
did  not  clearly  appear.  Harry  said  he  seemed  a  venerable 
old  man,  to  whom  the  alcalde  listened  with  supreme  defer- 
ence. Perhaps  he  was  the  schoolmaster,  and  most  learned 
man  of  the  place. 

I  was  considerably  elated  with  my  success  as  a  mob 
orator,  this  being  the  most  public  display  I  ever  had  to 
make  in  a  foreign  language  ;  and  though  my  opponent  was 
certainly  a  very  stupid  and  sulky  fellow,  still  they  seemed  to 
listen  impartially  to  all  he  said,  and  only  by  degrees  came 
over  to  my  side  of  the  quarrel,  so  that  I  think  I  may  con- 
sider it  to  a  certain  extent  a  triumph  in  the  Spanish  idiom. 
It  cost  us  about  an  hour  and  a  half's  delay. 

At  Torquemadawe  dined,  and  took  a  siesta^  the  day  being 
very  hot.  The  Moor  cuts  and  stumbles  a  good  deal,  and  is 
getting  lame.  The  eight  or  nine  hundred  miles  we  have 
travelled  has  told  on  his  constitution.  All  the  latter  part 
of  our  journey,  indeed  ever  since  we  left  Granada,  we  have 
been  going  as  far  every  day  as  our  ponies  could  be  got  to 
go  ;  and  though  they  had  three  weeks'  rest  at  Madrid,  as 
we  were  not  there  to  see  after  them,  I  fear  they  were  not 
fairly  treated. 

Towards  sunset  we  set  off  for  Quintana,  and  made  the 
greater    part    of  our   stage    by  starlight.     The  posada  was 

372 


Gadshill 

very  full,  and  the  hostess  and  her  daughters  in  a  great 
bustle.  We  could  only  be  accommodated  by  having  beds 
set  up  in  the  store-room  ;  and  w^hile  we  w^ere  going  to  bed, 
they  were  constantly  coming  in,  to  get  cakes  and  bollos  out 
of  a  large  chest.  At  last  we  lost  our  patience,  and  said 
that  they  had  better  take  all  they  wanted  once  for  all,  for  if 
they  came  again,  we  would  not  let  them  in.  The  old  woman 
had  asked  us  whether  we  were  not  Spaniards — somebody 
had  suggested  we  were  French,  but  she  did  not  believe  it. 
I  asked  her  what  she  thought  we  were.  She  answered 
Madrilenians,  and  we  did  not  contradict  her.  I  suppose  on 
the  strength  of  this  she  settled  the  question  among  the 
gossips  of  the  household  ;  for  next  morning,  when  a  little 
boy  helping  in  the  stables  talked  about  the  French  gentle- 
man's hack,  the  7no%o  de  la  cuadra  rebuked  him,  saying  he 
ought  to  know  better  than  to  mistake  Spaniards  for 
Frenchmen. 

We  were  up  very  early,  and  started  half  an  hour  before 
sunrise.  The  confusion  of  arrieros  getting  their  mules 
packed  in  the  dark  court-yard,  and  going  about  with  lan- 
terns, reminded  us  of  the  Carriers'  scene  in  the  hostel  of 
Gadshill : — 

1st  Carrier. — "I  think  this  be  the  most  rascally  house 
for  fleas  in  all  London-road." 

2nd  Carrier. — "It  must  be  near  four  of  the  clock. 
Charles's  wain  is  over  the  new  chimney." 

3rd  Carrier. — "  Lend  me  thy  lantern,  friend  !  " 

1st  Carrier. — "Lend  thee  my  lantern?  ay!  when? 
Lend  me  thy  lantern,  quotha  !  I  know  a  trick  worth  two 
of  that." 

We  had  eaten  a  little  chocolate  before  starting.  We 
baited  our  beasts  at  Villa  Nueva,  but  did  not  breakfast, 
though  I,  being  very  hungry,  had  a  pennyworth  of  aguardi- 

373 


The  Moor  at  Buriel 

ente^  and  a  halfpennyworth  of  bread,  which  I  discussed  in 
haste,  sitting  on  the  corn-bin.  At  Celada,  we  breakfasted 
on  two  bad  watery  fishes,  made  still  more  nauseous  with 
garlic.  After  breakfast,  and  feeding  our  ponies,  we  loosened 
the  Moor,  and  he  immediately  lay  down  in  our  presence, 
with  his  head  on  the  stone  threshold  of  the  stable-door. 
He  looked  so  wretched  and  weary  and  lean,  and  so  changed 
from  the  round,  sleek,  pincushion-plumpness  in  which  he 
left  Seville,  that  we  felt  sorry  and  conscience-stricken.  I 
took  his  portrait  lying  at  full  length. 

A  party  of  Biscayans  arrived  in  a  lumbering  old  rattle- 
trap ;  they  were  troublesomely  inquisitive,  and,  besides, 
gratuitously  remarked  that  my  Spanish  was  better  than 
Harry's,  whom  they  had  scarcely  heard  open  his    mouth. 

Here  we  were  four  leagues  from  Burgos,  and  the  Moor 
was  so  lame,  I  determined  to  walk  all  the  way  to  ease  him. 
On  leaving  the  village,  I  took  off  my  Marselles  jacket  and 
cahones^  and  walked  in  my  elastica  and  white  drawers,  to 
be  cooler.  At  Buriel,  the  Moor  showed  that,  though  worn 
and  lean  and  lame,  his  spirit  was  not  subdued  ;  for,  as  I 
stopped  to  get  a  drink,  he  perceived  another  entero  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  when,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  he 
pulled  violently  back,  and  began  kicking  at  his  enemy.  In 
this  unruly  proceeding  he  shook  off"  the  alforjas  and  upper 
clothing,  which  I  laid  across  the  saddle,  into  the  dust.  I 
begin  to  lose  all  hope  that  the  Moor  will  ever  learn  to 
benefit  by  the  uses  of  adversity.  The  owner  of  the  ill-used 
beast,  though  he  swore  vigorously  at  first,  when  I  begged 
his  pardon  was  very  good-natured,  and  helped  me  to  pick 
up  my  scattered  valuables.  The  woman  of  the  house  where 
I  got  a  drink  asked  me  if  I  was  a  play-actor,  judging  I  sup- 
pose from  the  gay  colours  of  my  dress,  which  was,  indeed, 
theatrical  enough.     A  sky-blue  knitted  woollen  vest  opening 

374 


Our  Nations  and  Callings 

down  the  front,  with  a  broad  embroidered  border  of  yellow 
and  scarlet,  clasped  with  the  filigree  broche  I  had  got  in 
Valladolid — my  loins  girt  with  a  crimson  faja^  striped  with 
white,  green,  and  purple — my  lower  extremities  in  tight- 
fitting  white  drawers,  continued  below  the  knee  by  embroi- 
dered bottines  of  yellow  leather.  My  sombrero^  too,  was  very 
high-peaked,  and  adorned  with  two  huge  tufts  of  black  silk 
on  the  rim  and  crown.  Each  particular  item  of  attire  I  have 
had  occasion  to  purchase,  has  always  been  selected  with  an 
arrihe  pensee  to  my  arriero  costume  having  some  day  to 
figure  on  the  boards  of  the  Hovingham  theatre.  We  intend 
to  write  a  Piece  with  Brigands  in  it  on  purpose ;  and 
between  our  wardrobes,  I  think  we  could  turn  out  a  gang 
of  eight  or  nine  very  respectable  rufSans  in  the  digagie 
demi-toilette  of  the  robbers'  cave. 

We  have  passed  as  belonging  to  sundry  nations  on  our 
way  :  Italians,  Portuguese,  French,  Germans,  Andalusians, 
Madrilenians,  Biscayans ;  and  sundry  professions — pottery- 
men,  equestrian  performers,  railway-engineers,  pedlars,  bull- 
fighters, miners,  and  play-actors. 

The  country,  as  we  approached  Burgos,  had  been  im- 
proving, the  hills  getting  rounder  at  the  top,  and  the  soil 
less  sandy.  From  a  windy  height  we  saw  the  twin-spires  of 
Burgos's  beautiful  cathedral. 

As  we  were  entering  beneath  the  dark-arched  gateway, 
the  doganero^  who  was  loitering  some  little  way  off  outside, 
came  running  up,  and  calling  out, — "  Hallo,  stop,  you  Man- 
chegos !  I  must  see  what  you  have  in  the  alforjas  !  "  We 
stopped  and  told  him  who  we  were,  and  he  let  us  pass 
without  examination.  We  have  really,  on  the  whole,  been 
very  little  troubled  with  custom-house  regulations.  But 
these  abuses  (I  mean  custom-houses),  being  the  relic  of 
barbarous  times,  to  which  they  were  greatly  better  adapted 

375 


Burgos 

than  the  present  day,  are  very  much  less  felt  when  you 
travel  in  the  old  barbarous  fashion  on  horseback,  when  they 
can  feel  your  saddle-bags  and  let  you  go,  than  when  you  are 
a  passenger  in  steamboats  and  railways.  Then,  instead  of 
filtering  through  by  driblets,  suspicious  packages  come  in  a 
great  volley  ;  and,  as  is  the  case  in  almost  all  grievances,  the 
ceremony  and  delay  are  much  more  than  the  hardship  of 
having  your  luggage  searched. 

I  was  not  so  much  tired  with  my  twelve  miles'  walk  as  I 
expected  to  be,  and  indeed  am  much  stronger  than  I  was. 
I  think  I  may  congratulate  myself  now  fairly  on  having 
quitted  the  condition  of  an  invalid  :  for,  during  the  greater 
part  of  this  journey,  I  have  been  ten  or  twelve  hours  a  day 
in  the  saddle,  and  find  myself  no  worse,  but  the  better — 
only  rather  thinner  than  I  was  when  I  left  Seville. 

Arrived  in  Burgos,  we  had  to  settle  whether,  in  the 
present  dilapidated  state  of  our  finances,  it  was  prudent  to 
go  to  the  best  inn  ;  but  being  weary  and  hungry  and  dusty, 
the  desire  of  comfortable  washing  and  food  and  beds,  over- 
came our  economical  scruples.  Leading  our  beasts  in  under 
the  lofty  portal  of  the  Fonda  de  las  DiligenctaSy  it  appeared 
that  our  outward  men  did  not  carry  any  conviction  of  our 
respectability  to  the  minds  of  the  hostelry's  understrappers. 
One  of  them,  a  handsome,  stupid-looking  giant  about  seven 
feet  high,  superciliously  looking  down  upon  us,  inquired 
what  we  were  come  for  ? 

No  doubt,  he  simply  meant  to  inform  himself  what  gentle- 
man's baggage  we  had  undertaken  to  transport  somewhere, 
and  he  was  merely  treating  us  to  the  ordinary  patronising  airs 
it  was  his  wont  to  use  towards  muleteers.  But  the  hungry 
and  weary  British  lion  is  not  accustomed  to  such  usage. 

"  Come  for?"  we  cried  in  one  breath,  "  Come  for?  tontillo! 
(you  little  simpleton  !).     Is  it  a  custom  to  ask  gentlemen, 

37^ 


The  Cid's  Portmanto 

when  they  hnghtcn  your  posada^s  portals  with  their  presence, 
what  they  come  for  ?  Come  for  ?  Why,  dinner — supper 
— beds — breakfast — and  provender  for  our  horses  !  Here, 
take  them  to  the  stables  ;  and  you,  other  one,  carry  these 
alforjas  up  to  our  apartment !  " 

We  had  a  very  decent  dinner,  which  we  did  all  the  more 
justice  to  from  having  been  starved  since  the  Escorial.  Our 
room  was  comfortable,  and  the  beds  not  infested  with 
vermin.  Before  going  to  bed  I  put  wet  bandages  on  the 
Moor's  fetlock,  which  he  cuts  with  the  heel  of  his  off  shoe. 
I  hope  it  may  take  out  the  inflammation.  I  have  been 
keeping  it  wet  all  day. 

The  post-office  was  not  open  this  morning  when  we  went 
at  first.  The  cathedral,  with  which  we  solaced  our  impa- 
tience, is  a  mass  of  the  richest  carving  inside  and  out.  In 
one  of  the  sacristias  they  showed  us  a  carved  oak  chest, 
which  the  Cid  had  sent  for  from  Valencia,  charged  with  his 
effects  ;  but  it  had  never  reached  its  destination,  and  is  kept 
here  as  a  relic.  Instead  of  being  affected  with  pity  of  the 
Cid  for  the  loss  of  his  wardrobe,  our  thoughts  turned  to  our 
own  portmantos,  now  on  the  road  from  the  metropolis  to  the 
frontier,  per  galera.  Alas  !  how  much  more  interesting  to 
the  unlearned  are  contemporary  events  than  those  of  history. 

We  now  returned  through  the  sombre  Gothic  gateway, 
niched  with  statues  of  Burgalese  worthies,  which  opens  from 
the  old  town  upon  the  bridge  over  the  Arlanzon,  and 
seeking  the  post-office  once  more,  were  this  time  successful. 

I  found  in  the  list.  No.  981,  the  name  Tagtag^  which,  as 
it  seemed  about  as  near  as  a  Spanish  post-officer  was  likely 
to  transcribe  the  word  Cayley  from  an  English  superscrip- 
tion, I  asked  to  see.  I  recognised  with  delight  a  well-known, 
much-loved  specimen  of  excellent  penwomanship,  and  broke 
the  blossom  branch  of  hawthorn  waving  over  the  bell  of  the 
device  in  wax  of  roseate  hue. 

377 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

ViTORiA,  May  1 8. 
The  Moor's  fetlock  was  better  for  his  two  days'  rest  and 
wet  bandaging.  Before  starting,  I  made  a  sort  of  boot,  or 
rather  gaiter,  for  him,  by  folding  a  silk  handkerchief  square- 
wise  into  a  broad  belt,  which,  wrapping  it  round  the  joint, 
I  lashed  on  with  tape ;  so  that  now,  though  he  often  clashes 
his  clumsy  fore-legs  together,  he  cannot  cut  his  wound  open 
again. 

Our  conversation,  as  we  rode  out  of  Burgos,  treated  of 
literary  thefts  ;  and  how,  after  thinking  some  modern  author 
a  clever  fellow  for  a  long  while  on  the  strength  of  some 
excellent  thing  or  two,  perhaps  the  only  bits  of  him  which 
stick  in  your  memory,  you  find  the  very  same  excellent 
things  in  some  dark  corner  of  Montaigne,  or  Rabelais,  or 
Quevedo. 

I  take  it,  the  law  of  literary  honesty  is  something  of  this 
sort.  What  is  simply  true  and  useful  and  solid  information, 
you  acquire  indiflferently  from  the  observation  of  yourself 
and  others.  For  what  you  borrow  of  this  kind  no  acknow- 
ledgment is  necessary  :  it  would  be  troublesome  to  the 
reader,  and  almost  impossible  to  the  writer,  to  chronicle  the 
particular  digging  where  he  got  each  particular  lump  of 
Sacramental  mud,  which  scattered  grains  of  wisdom  made  it 
worth  while  to  throw  into  his  basket. 

But  who  that  wanders  with  his  mule   and  pickaxe  and 

3/8 


Plagiarism 


cradle  along  the  banks  of  Time's  golden  river,  shall  not 
remember  the  aspect  and  the  name  of  that  spot  where  he 
found  some  massive  nugget  of  wit  or  truth,  such  as  nature 
can  only  afford  to  sprinkle  here  and  there  ? 

Wherever  we  pick  up,  in  the  dusty  treasuries  and 
armories  of  old,  a  lump  of  golden  truth  condensed  in  an 
apophthegm,  or  a  rusty  old  arrow-head  of  ancient  wit,  we 
have  no  business  to  mint  the  one,  or  set  the  other  in  our 
bow,  without  letting  the  world  know  from  whose  crucible 
and  quiver  they  came. 

I  fear  too  many  of  our  modern  authors,  "whose  wit  is  not 
so  perfect  as  their  memory," — this  sarcasm  Edmund  Burke 
let  fly  at  first,  but  Sheridan  picked  it  up  and  sharpened  the 
point,  and  ground  the  twin  barbs  into  a  more  elaborately 
balanced  epigram, — too  many  of  our  modern  authors  live  by 
putting  a  new  polish  upon  old  plate,  and  new  shafting  and 
feathering  old  arrow-heads. 

Wordsworth  was  not  ashamed  to  steal  from  so  well-known 
an  author  as  Pascal.     Do  you  remember  where  he  says — 

"And  the  most  difficult  of  tasks  to  keep 
Heights  which  the  soul  is  competent  to  gain  "  ? 

Pascal  writes,  if  I  remember  right — 

"  Ces  grands  efforts  de  I'esprit  ou  I'ame  touche  quelquefois, 
sont  choses  ou  elle  ne  se  tient  pas  :  elle  y  saute  seulement 
pour  retomber  aussitot."  But  let  us  hope  that  it  was  a 
coincidence. 

Sterne,  I  fear,  is  guilty  of  stealing  his  "  Flattering 
Beggar,"  without  acknowledgment,  from  Quevedo.  And 
he  has  not  even  the  poor  excuse  of  poverty  to  cover  his  dis- 
honesty with  rags.  I  have  always  thought  Sterne  the  most 
European  of  our  English  wits ;  and  perhaps  the  reason  is 

379 


Characters  of  Moor  and  Cid 

that  he  purloined  largely  from  all  the  best  authors  of  the 
Continent.  His  "  Koran "  is  full  of  the  best  wit  and 
wisdom  in  small  pieces  that  I  remember. 

Shortly  after  this  Harry  fell  behind  rather  :  the  paces  of 
the  ponies  are  not  very  even,  the  Moor  walking  faster  :  and 
a  walk  with  breaks  of  fadge  is  our  pace.  Soon  before 
reaching  Monasterio,  I  heard  a  pattering  of  feet,  and  up 
came  the  Cid  without  his  master,  without  alforjas^  and  with 
the  cloak,  only  held  by  one  tie  of  the  tape,  trailing  along  the 
ground.  I  was  afraid  some  serious  accident  had  happened. 
I  tried  to  catch  the  Cid,  who  refused  to  be  so  treated,  pre- 
ferring to  expatiate  free  in  a  barley-field.  I  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  him  and  returning  along  the  road,  when 
Harry  appeared  in  the  distance,  con  las  alforjas  al  cuello 
(the  saddle-bags  on  his  shoulder),  and  I  went  to  meet  him. 
Charging  both  alforjas  on  the  Moor,  we  walked  back 
together  ;  and  after  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Harry  caught 
the  Cid,  showing  great  patience  and  subtlety,  which  indeed 
were  requisite  ;  for  the  Cid  is  a  sly  brute,  greatly  superior 
in  intellect  and  experience  of  the  world  to  the  Moor,  who, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  of  a  much  nobler  and  more  courageous 
nature. 

We  now  descended  into  Monasterio.  Here  there  was  a 
respectable  posada  with  nobody  in  it  except  the  hostess,  who 
seemed  dazed  and  giddy,  and  we  thought  at  first  she  was 
drunk,  and  next  that  she  was  insane.  She  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  make  any  effort  towards  our  supper  ;  and  stood, 
with  dreamy  wandering  eyes,  leaning  against  the  wall,  while 
we  vainly  attempted  to  impress  upon  her  the  urgency  of 
the  occasion. 

While  this  difficulty  was  still  pending,  and  we  were 
beginning  to  think  we  should  have  to  make  up  the  fire  on 
the  cold  ashes  of  the  kitchen-hearth,  and  forage  in  the  place 

380 


Empty  Praise  and   Solid   Pudding 

for  something  to  cook,  the  strumming  of  guitars  and  the 
gingling  thump  of  tambourines,  and  a  sound  of  voices,  came 
along  the  street.  Soon  after  this  musical  procession  had 
passed,  the  husband  and  two  sisters  of  our  hostess  came  in. 

To  the  younger  of  these,  who  seemed  a  brisk  little  body, 
we  addressed  our  petition  for  supper  ;  and  while  she  was 
kindling  the  kitchen-fire,  by  way  of  stimulus  to  her  activity, 
I  complimented  her  on  her  good  looks. 

She  turned  upon  me  rather  fiercely,  and  said  in  a  tragic 
tone,  "  To  no  soy  guapa  "  (I  am  not  pretty),  and  seemed  dis- 
posed to  think  I  was  speaking  ironically.  And,  indeed,  I 
saw  the  reason  why,  when,  by  the  flame  springing  from  the 
kindling,  it  was  apparent  that  her  face  was  marked  with  a 
slight  fret-work  of  small-pox,  illustrating  the  decided  advan- 
tage of  chiselled  features  over  gouged. 

I  saw  no  way  out  of  my  dilemma,  but  by  roundly 
affirming,  that  I  meant  what  I  said,  and  would  affirm  to  all 
contradicentes  except  herself,  that  she  was  muy  guapita. 
And  though  she  continued  sulky  for  a  while,  she  shortly 
began  to  relent,  as  her  vanity  persuaded  her  to  surmise  that 
I  might  have  been  in  earnest.  By  the  time  supper  was 
ready,  the  compliment  had  worked  on  her  constitution,  and 
she  waited  upon  us  and  stopped  to  converse  in  a  most 
affable  manner. 

She  told  us  her  sister  had  been  very  ill  ever  since  her 
confinement  three  weeks  ago,  and  was  queer  in  her  head, 
poor  thing  :  but  the  baby  was  a  beautiful  baby.  She 
admired  our  silver  buttons  and  clasps,  told  us  about  the 
procession,  which,  in  the  absorption  of  supper,  I  grieve  to 
say  I  did  not  pay  sufficient  attention  to,  and  have  forgotten 
all  about. 

Next  morning  we  rode  along  a  pretty  valley  to  Briviesca. 
The  stream  ran  northward,  and  the  blue  mountains  of  the 

381 


Briviesca  and  Pancorvo 

Pyrenees  looked  in  through  the  opening  vista.  We  are 
delighted  to  be  getting  into  a  mountain  district  again  after 
all  those  horrid  plains  of  La  Mancha  and  Valladolid.  At 
Briviesca  there  is  a  good  inn,  and  a  civil  landlord.  He  took 
us  to  see  the  retahlo  of  Santa  Clara,  a  beautiful  oak  carving 
thirty  feet  high. 

I  thought  I  should  have  had  a  chance  of  selling  my 
revolver,  v^hich  would  have  eased  our  financial  tightness. 
But  when  I  had  astonished  the  company  with  two  or  three 
barrels,  and  the  important  man  likely  to  buy  had  been 
drawn  to  witness  the  miracle,  the  other  barrels  (having  been 
loaded  long  before,  and  the  nipples  being  rusty)  did  not  go 
off,  and  the  purchaser  did. 

If  we  had  got  ten  or  twelve  dollars  for  the  pistol,  it  would 
have  made  us  independent  of  selling  our  ponies  at  Yrun. 
The  ponies,  both  of  them,  were  olF  their  feed  at  Briviesca. 
About  two  leagues  further  on  we  stopped  to  let  them  graze 
in  a  clovery  ditch  by  the  road-side.  The  limestone  dust  of 
the  highway  encourages  the  growth  of  clover.  They  say, 
if  you  put  lime  on  a  moor,  it  brings  up  this  grass. 

Reaching  Pancorvo  we  found  the  posada  stable  under 
repairs,  and  had  to  clear  the  manger  of  crumbling  mortar  to 
feed  our  beasts  ;  but  it  appeared  the  slight  sprinkling  of 
lime  which  remained  fertilised  their  appetites,  for  this  time 
they  ate  their  barley. 

At  Pancorvo  we  fairly  entered  the  mountains  by  a  re- 
markable gorge.  The  great  green  hills,  crested  and  sprinkled 
with  hoary  ragged  crags,  seem  like  huge  diluvian  waves 
solidified  and  changed  to  turf  and  stone. 

We  stopped  for  the  night  at  Miranda,  and  soon  after 
sunset  there  came  on  a  violent  thunder-storm.  The  rosy 
flashes  playing  among  the  mountain-peaks,  and  the  rolling 
thunder    echoing    down    the    valleys,    were    so    pleasantly 

382 


Vitoria 

sublime  that  I  stood  well  on  to  ten  minutes  beneath  the 
pelting  rain  to  admire  it.  I  dare  say  you  think  it  was  very 
absurd  to  expose  myself  to  the  wet  in  such  a  cause  ;  but  I 
was  sheltered  beneath  the  ample  folds  of  my  capa^  or  I  should 
not  have  been  so  child-(Harold)-ish. 

Next  day  we  rode  into  Vitoria,  an  uninteresting  town, 
celebrated  for  tobacco  and  a  battle.  We  filled  our  pouches 
with  the  former,  but  about  the  latter  I  cannot  speak,  for  I 
grieve  to  say  I  never  reached  that  volume  of  the  "  History 
of  Europe,"  and  this  excellent  work  is  not  of  dimensions 
amenable  to  form  part  of  a  travelling  library  on  horseback. 

But  I  suppose  everybody  who  comes  by,  that  knows  a 
little  about  history  and  battles,  contributes  his  mite  of 
explanation  to  the  previous  labyrinthine  confusion  which  the 
civilian  mind  is  afflicted  with  at  the  very  mention  of  battle- 
fields. We  shall  not  sleep  here,  but  go  on  in  the  evening 
to  Salinas.  You  see  our  expedition  is  in  its  dregs — weary, 
both  man  and  beast,  with  hard  travelling.  We  have  thus 
neither  patience  to  go  out  of  our  way  to  find,  wait  for,  or 
even  invent  adventures. 


383 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

Villa  Franca,  May  19. 
The  day,  which  had  been  very  rainy,  cleared  up  towards 
evening,  and  we  rode  across  a  plain  to  the  north  of  Vitoria, 
which  we  understood  to  be  the  battle-field.  When  we  had 
got  across  it,  and  were  beginning  to  rise  a  little  towards  the 
hills,  a  small  village,  called  Arrayabe,  was  the  scene  of  a 
combat, — not  so  important  to  the  destinies  of  Europe 
perhaps, — but  fraught  with  much  more  lively  interest  to 
us  than  that  which  took  place  on  the  plain  we  were  leaving 
behind. 

I  was  riding  about  thirty  yards  ahead,  doing  all  I  could 
to  keep  the  limping  and  weary  Moor  to  a  brisk  walk  ;  he 
drooping  his  head  and  stumbling  along  as  if  every  step  were 
to  be  his  last.  In  the  midst  of  the  village  we  encountered 
the  enemy,  which  was  no  other  than  a  stout,  slashing  cock- 
tail mare  and  her  foal. 

The  Moor  at  once  forgot  his  languishing  state,  pricked 
up  his  ears,  arched  his  neck,  and  shook  his  flowing  mane. 
He  sounded  the  powerful  clarion  of  his  nostrils,  and  was 
answered  by  shriller  notes  of  defiance  in  return.  His 
motive,  probably  no  more  than  a  polite  ambition  to  make  a 
gallant  show  as  he  passed  the  presence  of  this  sleek  mother 
of  the  stud,  was  sadly  misconstrued  by  the  maternal  sus- 
picions of  that  prudent  matron. 

She  hastily  made  up  her  mind  that  the  Moor's  intentions 

384 


Battle   (not)   of  Vitoria 

were  hostile  towards  her  offspring,  and,  turning  her  heels, 
backed  towards  him,  launching  out  furiously.  The  Moor, 
losing  his  temper  at  this  unkind  reception  of  his  com- 
plimentary overtures,  also  turned  his  heels  and  backed 
towards  her,  snorting  and  kicking  in  like  manner.  I,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  great  bodily  fear  of  being  smashed  to 
atoms  in  the  encounter,  kicked  and  spurred  with  great 
vehemence  to  get  him  out  of  harm's  way,  and  just  suc- 
ceeded in  escaping  a  shower  of  armed  hoofs  flashing  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  my  head  and  shoulders. 

Turning  round,  I  saw  that  Harry  and  the  peaceable  Cid 
^who  had  never  uttered  an  offensive  remark)  were  falling 
heirs  to  the  catastrophe  which  the  Moor  had  so  nearly  drawn 
down  upon  himself  and  his  master. 

I  saw  Harry  fly  off,  and  fall  entangled  among  the  heavy 
drapery  of  his  cloak  in  the  middle  of  the  muddy  road.  The 
Cid  retreated  in  great  terror.  I  was  considerably  alarmed, 
thinking  Harry  must  be  killed  by  the  kick,  which  seemed  to 
have  shot  him  off  his  saddle  like  a  cricket-ball  from  a  cata- 
pult. However,  he  jumped  up  in  a  moment,  and  finding  a 
great  stone,  flung  it  at  the  mare,  who,  satisfied  with  victory, 
now  returned  to  her  foal. 

But  the  mare's  owner  appearing  in  the  nick  of  time,  far 
from  pitying  Harry  in  his  fallen  and  muddy  plight,  or  con- 
gratulating him  on  his  escape,  began  to  use  vituperative 
language  to  him  for  throwing  stones  at  the  mare.  Here- 
upon Harry,  whose  feelings  had  been  doubtless  roused  by 
the  sudden  emergency,  immediately  replied,  that  if  he  did 
not  hold  his  tongue,  he  would  throw  a  bigger  stone  at  him  ; 
so,  as  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  said,  he  mounted  the 
Cid  again,  and  we  rode  on. 

It  was  dark  before  we  descended  to  Salinas,  which,  as 
far  as  we  could  see,  appeared  to  be  situated  on    one   side 

385 


Basque  Provinces 


of  a  deep  valley,  where  the  road  begins  to  plunge  down- 
wards in  zig-zags,  from  the  high  plateau  levels  of  Central 
Spain. 

We  were  spoken  to,  but  not  molested,  by  the  Custom- 
house here,  on  entering  the  Provincias  Bascongadas.  We 
found  we  were  in  Biscay,  too,  in  another  way.  The  Basque 
race  is  reported  to  be  proud,  honest,  and  independent  ;  but 
one  never  ac  s  upon  the  character  of  hearsay  till  it  is  con- 
firmed by  experience. 

Near  the  entrance  of  the  town,  we  presented  ourselves 
before  a  large  house,  which  we  had  been  told  was  the  posada. 
The  door  was  closed,  and  we  called  and  knocked  lustily. 
At  length  a  maiden  appeared  at  a  wicket. 

"  Caramha  !  is  this  a  way  to  keep  gentlemen  waiting  in 
the  dark  ?  Send  the  mozo  de  la  cuadra  to  take  our  beasts, 
carajo  I  ^^  But  the  young  lady,  not  liking  our  salutation, 
which  certainly  savoured  more  of  impatience  than  politeness, 
and  observing  by  the  flaring  lamp  in  her  hand  that  we 
looked  more  like  bandits  than  gentlemen,  told  us  demurely 
to  go  about  our  business,  and  would  listen  to  no  appeal,  but 
shut  the  wicket  in  our  faces. 

Thus  left  in  outer  darkness,  where  we  were  at  liberty 
to  weep  a  discrition^  but  were  less  likely  to  find  materials 
to  gnash  our  hungry  teeth  upon,  Harry  calmly  suggested 
that,  had  our  language  been  civiller,  our  reception  might 
have  been  more  cordial,  and  that  we  must  polish  up  our 
free-and-easy  Andalusian  manners  to  suit  the  Provincias 
Bascongadas. 

Turning  our  ponies'  heads  pensively  down  the  steep 
street,  we  came  to  an  humbler  roof,  where  we  had  to  put  up 
our  ponies  in  a  sort  of  pig-sty  cellar.  Groping  our  way  up 
an  exceeding  crooked  staircase,  under  the  conduct  of  a 
damsel  of  the  house,  we  were  introduced  to  our  hostess,  a 

386 


Resignation  and   Sausages 

tall,  high-featured,  stately  dame,  in  a  small  kitchen  com- 
pletely hung  with  festoons  of  red  sausages,  depending  there 
to  dry  for  the  Vitoria  market  to-morrow  morning. 

We  sat  among  the  sausages  smoking  and  trying  to  make 
the  best  of  our  fate,  and  conversing  with  our  venerable 
hostess,  while  she  dressed  our  supper.  She  was  a  respect- 
able, motherly  old  lady,  with  a  dignified  gravity  of  manner, 
very  different  from  the  ordinary  type  of  shrill,  gossiping, 
slatternly  posaderas  in  Spain  at  large.  She  and  her 
daughters  talked  usually  in  Basque  to  one  another,  though 
they  could  all  speak  Spanish  after  a  fashion. 

She  told  us  that  her  husband  had  been  killed  in  the 
troubles,  and  she  herself  had  been  in  prison  five  years  for 
oponton  {oposicion)  to  Christina,  although  she  had  no 
political  preference  for  one  party  over  another,  but  false 
witnesses  had  been  her  ruin.  She  was  now  poorer  than  she 
had  been  in  her  youth,  and  was  obliged  to  keep  a  casa  de 
huespedes  for  her  livelihood,  which  she  eked  out  with  keeping 
pigs.  I  dare  say,  if  we  had  not  found  the  kitchen  full  of 
sausages,  we  should  have  found  the  stable  full  of  swine. 

By  this  time  one  of  the  daughters  came  up  to  say  our 
room  was  ready,  and  our  landlady  recommended  us  to  have 
supper  served  there.  We  went  down  and  found  a  very 
decent  bedroom,  with  clean  and  comfortable  beds  ;  so  that, 
after  all,  we  had  had  our  lesson  of  Biscayan  manners,  and 
not  suffered  so  much  inconvenience  as  we  might  have 
expected. 

From  Salinas,  the  road  winds  through  fertile  and  populous 
valleys,  among  large  green  mountains,  by  the  side  of  a 
swift  and  copious  river.  On  the  bank,  a  graven  stone  set 
forth  that  here  a  youth  of  happiest  promise,  the  only  pride 
of  now  childless  parents,  had  been  drowned  while  fishing  ; 
from  which  we  argued  there  must  be  fish  in  the  stream  ; 

387  BB 


Basque   Language 


and  indeed  it  looked  as  if  good-sized  trout  were  to  be 
caught. 

I  cannot  imagine  a  pleasanter  excursion  for  people  who 
like  scenery  and  angling  than  to  wander  with  a  rod  and 
sketch-book  through  these  beautiful,  well-watered  valleys. 

At  Mondragon  we  baited,  and  I  hung  my  cloak,  damp 
with  the  rains  of  yesterday,  from  the  railing  of  the  balcony 
over  the  river,  to  dry  in  the  sun.  Below  were  a  bevy  of 
washerwomen  chattering  away  in  their  language,  which 
sounds  a  little  like  Welsh,  but  a  nobler  breadth  of  enuncia- 
tion, and  without  that  horrid  lisping  LI.  Here  I  took  my 
first  lesson  in  the  Basque  language  of  our  landlady,  and  this 
is  what  I  learnt : — 

Egg-en-noon  (good  day). 

Gab-boon  (good  night). 

Khat-t6n  (to  eat). 

Err-rat-t6n  (to  drink). 

On  to  Villa  Real.  Here  a  man  treated  for  our  ponies, 
but  we  could  not  do  any  business.  We  came  in  sight  of  a 
very  grand,  massive  mountain,  with  a  peak  in  front  some- 
thing like  a  saddle.  We  learned  it  was  called  Pefia  del 
Mezqueta,  which  sounds  like  a  Moorish  title. 

At  Villa  Franca,  a  quaint,  compact,  old-fashioned  little 
town,  we  stopped  for  the  night.  We  fed  the  ponies  on 
maize,  which  they  ate  greedily.  A  man  in  the  stables 
treated  for  our  horses,  at  least  disparaged  them,  showing  a 
disposition  to  buy  ;  but  we  had  rather  work  them  through 
to  the  end,  for  the  frontier  is  only  ten  leagues  further, 
which  we  hope  to  accomplish  to-morrow. 

Next  morning,  in  high  spirits,  we  began  our  last  day's 
march  among  the  winding  valleys  and  over  the  round 
green  mountain-flanks  of  the  Pyrenees.  We  breakfasted  at 
Tolosa  on   strawberries  and   cream.     The  people  of  this 

388 


The  Pyrenees 


mountain  district  seem  honest,  hearty,  industrious  folk. 
The  dress  is  not  unpicturesque.  The  blue  or  scarlet  berreta 
of  Bayonne,  a  large  round  flat  cap,  very  like  the  Kilmarnock 
bonnet  of  our  northern  Celts  ;  the  elastic  knitted  woollen 
vest  of  crimson,  covered  virith  a  fret  of  blue,  and  a  faja^ 
make  a  more  graceful  costume  at  any  rate  than  that  of  the 
short-waisted,  dangle-capped  men  at  the  Catalonian  end  of 
the  same  range. 

The  cultivation  of  the  land  is  peculiar  ;  you  see  a  row  of 
five  or  six  men  and  women,  each  handling  a  sort  of  forked 
spade  composed  of  two  broad  flat  prongs  ;  with  this  they 
dig  in  a  line,  and  by  a  simultaneous  leverage,  turn  up  a  long 
deep  sod. 

Cart-wheels  are  of  a  simple  construction  ;  instead  of  a 
nave  and  spokes,  the  wheel  is  merely  a  round  thick  board, 
three  or  four  feet  in  diameter.  Oxen  are  shod  in  a  singular 
manner.  The  smithies  have  a  stout  frame-work  of  timber, 
where  the  ox  is  hoisted  up  by  a  broad  belt  under  his  belly, 
and  all  his  legs  lashed  fast,  in  a  position  for  the  smith  to 
work  upon  the  hoofs  at  leisure.  They  have  a  very  comical, 
if  not  tragical  appearance,  poor  beasts,  when  stretched 
upon  the  rack  in  this  manner. 

At  Ernani  we  dined.  About  half  a  mile  before  entering 
this  village,  as  I  crossed  a  bridge,  or  rather  a  viaduct,  a 
walnut  had  stretched  up  its  fragrant  branches  from  below, 
and  offered  to  my  notice  three  green  nuts,  in  excellent 
condition  to  make  pickles. 

I  had  been  fasting  since  six  in  the  morning  (except  that 
small  plate  of  Alpine  strawberries  at  Tolosa,)  and  was 
desperately  hungry  and  thirsty.  In  this  condition  of  gastric 
craving,  the  idea  of  walnut-pickle  crossed  my  mind  as  a 
refreshing  reminiscence. 

I  stretched  forth  my  hand,  gathered  the  nuts,  and  ate  the 


My  Moorish  Pouch 

greater  part  of  one  of  them,  which  I  found  very  pungent 
and  astringent,  but  of  a  fine  aromatic  flavour,  acting  as  an 
agreeable  stimulant  to  my  exhausted  vitals.  But  I  had  not 
eaten  this  trash  above  two  minutes,  when  I  was  seized  with 
qualms,  and  began  to  vomit  violently. 

As  I  had  but  little  wherewithal,  I  seemed  in  a  fair  way  to 
throw  up  all  my  inwards,  and  remain  on  the  roadside  com- 
pletely turned  inside  out,  with  an  Andalusian  suit  lining 
my  intestinal  canal,  and  the  mucous  membrane  by  way  of 
costume.  Several  peasant  women  passed  by  while  I  was 
retching  in  a  terrible  manner  ;  but  they  said  nothing  and 
went  on,  with  a  look  of  suspicious  horror,  as  if  I  were  some 
plague-stricken  wretch,  whom  it  would  be  unsafe  to  help. 

I  lay  down  in  a  ditch  (with  my  head  pillowed  on  a  grassy 
bank),  but  I  had  the  good  fortune  not  to  die  in  it,  though 
the  occasion  seemed  apposite  ;  and  feeling  better  after  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  or  so,  rode  into  Ernani.  Harry,  who  was 
riding  a  hundred  yards  in  advance  at  the  time,  had  gone  on, 
unaware  of  my  sudden  seizure  ;  for  though  he  was  not  out 
of  sight  when  my  indisposition  seized  me,  I  felt  so  faint  that 
I  could  not  cry  out, 

I  was  not  in  the  least  the  worse,  and  ate  a  very  hearty 
dinner  at  the  posada^  where  there  was  a  great  feast  going  on ; 
it  being  Ascension-day,  and  the  house  full  of  carousing 
people,  and  overflowing  with  good  cheer  of  all  kinds. 

I  discovered  here  that  I  had  lost  my  Moorish  pouch, 
which  I  should  grieve  for  in  itself,  but  it  contained  other 
valuables,  including  two  sets  of  studs,  four  of  my  vestal 
virgin  buttons,  the  drum-shaped  silver  seal  I  made  at  Cailly, 
my  mermaid  ring,  and  all  my  collection  of  coins  ;  except  my 
luck-money,  which  I  carry  strung  round  my  neck.  I  think 
I  must  have  left  it  at  Villa  Franca  ;  so  good  bye  to  them. 

Some  of  them,  I  do  not  doubt,  will  circulate  in  Europe  as 


From   Sea  to  Sea 

genuine  antiques,  and  if  so,  I  shall  not  so  much  regret  the 
trouble  they  cost  me  in  making. 


Yrun,  May  20, 

All  Spain  lies  behind  us  !  We  are  at  the  end  of  our 
journey.  This  afternoon,  as  we  threaded  the  green  valleys 
of  the  Pyrenees,  a  flutter  stirred  the  sultry  air,  and  the  sea- 
breeze  met  us  as  we  trudged  along,  leading  our  weary  beasts 
by  the  bridle. 

As  the  sunset  was  wreathing  the  mountain-peaks  with 
rose  and  lilac  garlands,  we  pressed  on  over  ridge  after  ridge, 
often  disappointed,  but  still  hoping  to  get  a  view  out  of 
Spain  before  the  day  should    fade. 

At  length,  at  the  very  point  of  sunset,  we  turned  the 
shoulder  of  the  last  hill,  and  the  great  blue  ocean-plains  lay 
below  us.  Eight  hundred  weary  miles  of  zig-zag  riding  had 
brought  us  from  Velez,  where  we  saw  the  last  of  the  Medi- 
terranean, and  now  the  unquiet  Bay  of  Biscay  slept  like  a 
mill-pond  between  us  and  England. 

The  sunset  died  away  into  dusk  as  we  rode  down  into 
Yrun,  beyond  whose  river  darkened  away  in  dim  perspec- 
tive the  undulating  frontier  of  La  belle  France. 

The  poor  ponies,  unconscious  of  their  destiny,  and  I 
suppose  catching  some  touch  of  enthusiasm  by  sympathy 
with  their  masters,  went  into  the  end  of  their  last  stage 
with  more  spirit  than  has  been  their  wont  of  late. 

Since  coming  in  and  giving  them  their  corn,  I  have  been 
to  see  them  and  dressed  the  Moor's  fetlock.  Poor  beasts, 
we  cannot  tell  what  will  become  of  them  now.  We  have 
worked  them  hard  :  but  I  fear  they  may  find  still  harsher 
taskmasters,  who  will  feed  them  ill  and  work  them  till  they 

391  * 


An  Yrun  Thing 

are  wretched  bags  of  bones,  with  sore  backs,  like  many  of 
their  brethren  we  have  seen  on  the  road. 

They  have  been  our  companions  and  our  daily  care  now 
for  three  or  four  months  ;  we  have  had  much  trouble  and 
many  diflFerences  of  opinion  with  them  since  our  first 
struggles  in  the  deheia^  near  Seville  ;  they  are  not  par- 
ticularly amiable  or  engaging  in  their  dispositions  ;  for  the 
Moor  is  a  stupid,  hot-headed  fool,  and  the  Cid  a  cunning, 
sulky,  cowardly  beast,  and  yet  we  feel  as  if  a  close  domestic 
tie  was  about  to  be  snapped  ;  and  the  unconsciousness  of 
the  poor  wretches,  as  we  hear  them  chumping  their  last 
feed  of  corn  administered  by  our  hands,  makes  the  impending 
separation  more  melancholy. 

But  sell  them  we  must,  for  we  have  no  other  means  of 
raising  money  to  get  to  Bayonne.  I  have  come  in  with  two 
reals  and  a  half  (about  sevenpence  sterling),  as  the  total 
residue  of  the  funds  with  which  I  left  Madrid  ;  so  that  my 
getting  to  Yrun  at  all  may  be  said  to  have  been  a  near-run 
thing. 

Since  Madrid  we  have  travelled  loo  leagues,  or  about  270 
miles,  for  the  modern  league  is  not  three  miles,  as  the  ancient 
one  was.  In  some  of  the  by-roads  of  Andalusia  the  nominal 
league  was  often  nearer  four  miles  than  three,  but  on 
the  high  roads  the  leagues  are  always  short. 


392 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

Yrun,  Friday^  May  21. 

"  It  is  nought,  it  is  nought,  saith  the  buyer,"  (especially 
of  horse-flesh),  "but  when  he  goeth  his  way  then  he 
boasteth  !  "  i 

Solomon  must  in  his  time  have  had  occasion  to  sell  some- 
thing ;  for  he  speaks  more  feelingly  than  if  he  had  always 
been  a  buyer  himself,  and  never  experienced  the  wearisome 
disgust  of  waiting  for  reluctant  customers. 

But  to  return  to  our  ponies.  To-day  we  have  been  doing 
our  endeavours  to  dispose  of  them.  Our  first  step  was, 
early  in  the  morning,  to  execute  an  attractive  affiche.  At 
the  top  of  this  document  pranced  a  black  and  a  chestnut 
charger.     The  legend  ran  thus: — 

AQUI  ESTAN  PARA  VENDERSE 
DOS  JAQUITAS  ANDALUZAS, 
MUY  BONITAS  Y  MUY  FUERTES. 
EN  SEVILLA  HAN  NACIDO, 
DE  SANGRE  ARABA  RANCIA. 
HASTA  YRUN  YA  HAN  LEGADO 
POR  RONDA,  GIBRALTAR,  GRANADA, 
MADRID,  SEGOVIA,  VALLADOLID, 
PONIENDO  DIEZ  LEGUAS  AL  DIA. 

'  Proverbs. 

393 


The   Placard 

PUES  JUZGUEN  VMDES.  SI  SON  BUENAS 
LAS  JAQUlTAS.i 

Aplicarse  a  Don  Enriquez, 
Parador  de  Las  Postas. 

This  notice  is  posted  up  on  the  stable-door,  which  opens 
on  the  main  street  of  the  town.  Quantities  of  people  have 
been  looking  at  it,  and  some  have  been  in  to  inspect  the 
ponies. 

We  have  given  out  that  we  are  in  no  hurry  to  sell,  and 
finding  Yrun  a  pleasant  place,  we  shall  take  our  leisure 
and  wait  till  we  have  an  offer  that  suits  us.  It  is  twelve 
o'clock. 

By  the  bye,  in  the  anxiety  about  our  ponies,  I  have  never 
been  to  the  post-office.  I  will  thither  at  once,  for  who 
knows  but  I  may  find  a  letter. 

It  is  night.  I  have  just  come  back  from  the  sea-shore, 
where  I  waited  to  see  the  sun  go  down  upon  the  waters — 
listening  to  the  music  of  the  waves,  which,  as  they  now  are 
all  that  lie  between  me  and  my  native  land,  seem  as  they 
come  tumbling  on  the  beach  to  bring  soft  murmuring  mes- 
sages from  my  home  ;  and  the  whispering  sea-breeze  too, 
that  lightly  brushes  across  the  feathery  fringes  of  foam. 
Mere  fanciful  nonsense  is  this  ;  for  the  real  fountain  of 
sweet  thoughts  and  reveries  was  the  letter  I  carried  there 
to  read  over  and  over  again,  till  the  last  flush  faded  in  the 

'  Translation  : — "  Here  are  to  be  sold  two  Andalusian  ponies, 
very  pretty  and  stout.  They  were  born  in  Seville,  of  ancient 
Arab  race.  They  have  already  arrived  as  far  as  Yrun  by  Ronda, 
Gibraltar,  Granada,  Madrid,  Segovia,  Valladolid,  doing  ten 
leagues  per  day.  Let  your  worships  therefore  judge  whether  the 
ponies  are  good. 

"  Apply  to  Don  Enriquez,  Diligence  Inn." 

394 


Like  a  Glow- Worm  in  the  Sky 

western  heaven  ;  while  the  murmuring  waves  and  the  whis- 
pering sea-breeeze  only  made  a  pleasant  accompaniment  to 
the  music  of  those  loving  words. 

The  evening  star  came  out  in  the  purpling  sky  like  a  glow- 
worm in  a  violet.  By  the  way,  I  suppose  violets  shut  up 
their  fragrant  chalices  at  sundown  :  therefore,  no  glow-worm 
probably  ever  did  appear  in  a  violet,  so  let  us  drop  the 
simile  ;  and  indeed  I  don't  see  that  the  evening  star  gains 
anything  by  being  likened  to  a  dirty  little  phosphoric  worm. 

But  poor  Venus  is  used  to  these  odious  comparisons  by 
this  time,  for  she  has  always  been  a  favourite  piece  of  furni- 
ture with  poets  and  novelists — an  officious  set  of  fellows, 
who  never  can  inform  their  readers  that  something  does 
something,  without  gratuitously  adding  that  it  does  it  in  the 
same  manner  as  some  other  thing  does  something  else. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  Venus  came  out  as  Venus  is  in  the 
habit  of  coming  out  of  clear  evenings  at  this  time  of  year, 
and  obligingly  lighted  me  home  to  the  Parador^  where  we 
had  our  tea  ;  and  Harry,  who  has  been  sitting  at  home  all 
day  at  the  receipt  of  customers,  told  me  he  had  got  a  bid  of 
two-and-twenty  dollars  for  the  two  beasts,  which,  though  it 
was  an  ignominiously  small  sum,  he  thought  it  would  be 
better  to  accept  rather  than  lose  time,  for  we  have  had  our 
money's  worth  out  of  them  on  the  road. 

We  went  out  to  get  our  passports  vised^  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  set  off  to-morrow  morning  by  the  Bayonne  diligence.  As 
we  were  discoursing  with  one  of  the  officers  of  police  before 
the  door  of  the  bureau^  and  advertising  our  ponies  by  telling 
the  price  they  would  probably  have  to  go  at  if  they  were  not 
rescued  by  some  more  worthy  bidder,  we  were  joined  by  a 
blustering  corporal. 

"  He  had  heard  of  our  case,  and  it  was  a  shame  to 
take  advantage  of  the  hurry  of  travellers,  to  get  valuable 

395 


The  Corporal's  Tale 

animals  for  nothing  but  a  mere  carajo  of  an  old  song.  If  it 
was  his  case,  he  would  do  as  an  officer  in  his  regiment  had 
done  at  Valencia. 

"This  officer  had  a  splendid  horse,  and  when  his  regiment 
was  suddenly  ordered  away  to  Tarifa,  carajo  I  nobody  would 
make  him  a  bid  for  the  horse,  though  he  was  worth  at 
least  three  hundred  dollars,  carajo !  thinking,  no  doubt, 
that  by  hanging  back  they  would  get  him  for  almost  a 
carajo. 

"  But  when  he  was  going  to  embark,  he  had  the  horse  led 
down  to  the  shore,  and  some  thought  he  would  take  the 
horse  aboard  with  him  ;  but  that  was  impossible,  for  it  was 
a  foot  regiment,  and  he  had  no  permission.  So  when  he  had 
to  go  aboard  himself,  in  the  presence  of  those  scoundrelly 
dealers  who  had  come  to  beat  him  down  to  the  lowest  he 
would  take,  he  said,  '  Carajo!  you  shall  not  cheat  me,  carajo! 
You  would  not  give  me  a  fair  price,  and,  carajo  !  you  shall 
have  him  for  nothing — but,  at  the  same  time,  I  will  make  it 
a  fair  price,  for  he  shall  not  be  worth  a  carajo.''  Whereupon 
he  unclasped  his  navaja  and  cut  the  horse's  throat,  and 
gashed  the  hide  all  over,  so  that  the  skin  should  be  worth 
nothing  either,  carajo !  and  I  saw  it  done,  carajo !  and, 
carajo  !  I  would  advise  you  to  do  the  same,  carajo  !  !  !  " 

Soon  after  returning  to  our  hotel,  the  customer  appeared. 
He  is  the  administrador  of  the  government  lottery-office 
here,  and  has  a  bad,  hellite,  hang-dog  cast  of  countenance. 

He  beat  us  down  from  thirty  dollars,  at  which  we  had 
resolutely  stood  for  some  time,  to  twenty-five  ;  and  finally 
we  closed  the  bargain  at  twenty-three — about  five  guineas. 
The  ponies  originally  cost  us  sixteen.  So  that  we  have 
practically  paid  about  five  guineas  and  a  half  each  for  a 
thousand  miles  of  locomotion,  which  is  not  very  dear. 

Being  now  restored  to  a  state  of  solvency,  we  have  taken 


Conclusion 

our  places  in  the  diligence.  To-morrow  we  shall  cross  the 
Bidasoa,  and  be  able  to  reinforce  our  exchequer  at  a  civilised 
banker's  in  Bayonne.  A  few  days  of  rapid  modern  travelling 
are  all  now  between  us  and  home. 


ONWIN  BEOTHliKS,  UMITBD,  THE  GRKSHA.M  PBK8S,  WOKINQ  AND  LONDON. 


397 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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AA      000  324  387 


